The lumberjack boyfriend - Chapter 1 (Patreon)

Chapter 1

Family vacation at the lake. The July sun beat down hard, making the water sparkle like shattered glass. My parents had rented two wooden cabins: the bigger one for them and me, the smaller one for Jenna and Morgan. At twenty-one, still spending vacations with my parents was kinda embarrassing, but if my twenty-five-year-old sister did it and brought her boyfriends along, why the hell couldn’t I?

My parents had known I was gay since I was sixteen and it had never been an issue. The real problem was that I was the official family loser. Skinny, clumsy, zero muscle, always with a book under my arm and thin metal-framed glasses. Jenna called me “Harry Potter.” I hated it and loved it at the same time. I’d always loved the Harry Potter books.

I’d already met several of her boyfriends. Jenna never kept the same guy for long. This one, though… this one was different. Morgan. Lumberjack and son of the owners of one of the farms where she worked as a vet.

Morgan was the kind of man who made my entire body short-circuit. Everything about him was the complete opposite of me. Tall, around six-foot-three, with broad shoulders that looked like they were built to carry logs. His body wasn’t from the gym — it was from real work, forged from cutting wood and handling heavy animals every single day. Thick arms, veins standing out whenever he grabbed a beer or an axe. Broad chest covered in trimmed brown hair he never fully shaved, so you could see the perfect contrast between his sun-tanned skin and the trail of hair that ran down the middle of his chest, disappeared under his navel, and reappeared above the waistband of his boxers. Abs that actually came from work, not from some magazine cover. Thick thighs that stretched his worn-out jeans until they looked ready to rip.

His face was pure rustic sin: square jaw covered in three-day stubble, a thick, well-groomed mustache that gave him that modern cowboy look. His eyes were dark brown, almost black when he got serious, with a mischievous glint that seemed to say, “I know exactly what you’re thinking.” 

His hair was dark brown, shaved on the sides with a mohawk on top that he usually hid under a dirty baseball cap or a worn felt cowboy hat.

He smelled like a man. Clean sweat mixed with dirt, cheap beer, and that warm, animal scent that came from working on the farm. Whenever he walked past me, the smell hit my nose and went straight down to my core.

His voice was deep and rough, with that Texas accent that made every word sound like an invitation to sin. And his cock… when he climbed out of the water in nothing but soaked boxers, that heavy bulge swung between his legs, the thick, veiny outline clearly visible through the transparent fabric. I almost choked on my own breath.

He was rude, confident, almost arrogant. He took up space. Whenever he walked into a room, the air changed. And me — skinny, wearing glasses, book in hand — I felt small, turned on, and completely lost just from looking at him.

A real country boy. The mustache, the stubble, the mohawk hidden under caps and cowboy hats. Worn jeans, plaid shirts left open over tight white t-shirts. Everything about him made my mouth water and my mind loop with filthy thoughts. But he was my sister’s boyfriend…

He blasted country music from his phone and drank more beer than the rest of our family combined. I couldn’t tell if my parents actually liked him or not — Dad was polite but reserved, Mom smiled in that forced way. Me? I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

On the first day, when he stepped out of my sister’s Range Rover, my stomach twisted into a knot. He stretched, red-and-black plaid shirt hanging open, white t-shirt clinging to his broad chest. When he stretched I caught a glimpse of his abs. He didn’t have a gym body — he had the body of a man who actually worked for a living.

He shook my dad’s hand and nearly crushed mine with those big, calloused hands and thick fingers. It hurt. When he turned toward me, he gave me that sideways smirk, mustache twitching, and said:

“So you’re the little brother-in-law?” in that deep voice that seemed to vibrate straight through my chest. I mumbled something and bolted into the cabin with my book.

But the worst — or the best — part was when he decided to go swimming.

The heat was unbearable. After lunch, Morgan got up slowly, finished his beer, and said, “I’m gonna cool off, it’s fucking hot.” He didn’t hold back on swearing in front of my parents.

He unbuttoned his shirt slowly and let it drop onto the dock. Then his jeans. He was left in nothing but tight black boxers. His body was obscene. Broad chest shining with sweat, trimmed brown hair wet from the dive, water running down his stomach and disappearing into the waistband of his boxers. When he dove in, the splash was huge. When he surfaced, water streamed down his face, his mustache, his chest. The boxers clung to his body. I saw the thick outline of his cock, heavy, half-hard maybe from the cold water. The veins in his arms stood out as he pulled himself back onto the dock.

I was sitting farther back, the same page of my book open for ten straight minutes, mouth dry, breathing shallow, terrified he might hear me. I tried to hide behind the book, but he looked straight at me and smirked. That crooked little smile. I dropped my head fast.

Two days later, Jenna announced she had to leave for a few days.

“Mom, Dad, I’m really sorry but I have to go for a few days. They need me at the clinic.” Her voice was practical, but I saw the sad look she gave Morgan. “I can’t leave the clinic closed. Lily decided she didn’t want to work this summer and quit yesterday. I need to go sort things out for at least a few days. I promise I’ll come back. I’m even leaving Morgan as collateral.”

My mom complained. “Jenna, we only just got here yesterday.”

My dad muttered something about business.

“Business before pleasure, right, sweetheart?” Dad said — he’d invested in my sister’s clinic.

“That’s right, Dad. It’s only a two-hour drive. I’ll come back as often as I can. I really have to go now. Sorry!”

Morgan, sitting in the recliner with a beer in his hand, didn’t even move. He just lifted the bottle in a lazy toast.

“Can’t miss the chance to get to know my future in-laws and my little brother-in-law better,” he said, looking straight at me. The look lingered. I felt heat climb up my neck. His relaxed pose in that recliner made it clear he didn’t give a damn whether his girlfriend left or stayed.

Jenna packed a bag, kissed Morgan long and slow (I looked away), hugged our parents, and drove off in the Range Rover. The silence that followed was heavy.

“Oh honey, don’t be like that, she’ll be back soon,” Dad said, putting an arm around Mom, who was clearly disappointed — she looked forward to this lake vacation all year. “Let’s go into town, buy dinner, and pick out a book to cheer you up, sweetheart.” He turned to us. “Behave, boys.” He laughed like it was a joke. Morgan raised his beer bottle in farewell once again.

When the sound of their car faded, the lake grew quieter. All I could hear were birds, the occasional splash of a bird in the water, and my own heartbeat.

I went to grab the book I was reading — Haunting Adeline, an old worn paperback. The plan was to go sit on the dock, dangle my legs in the cool water, and try to forget I was going to be alone with Morgan for days.

I didn’t even make it two steps outside the cabin.

“Where are you going, Harry Potter? Or should I say Gay Potter?” He laughed loud, like his joke was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. None of my sister’s boyfriends had ever been hostile toward me before.

His voice came from behind me, deep, amused, with a tone that both froze me and heated me up at the same time. I turned around slowly. Morgan was leaning against the post of his cabin’s porch, arms crossed, plaid shirt completely open. His defined chest glistened with a thin layer of sweat.

He had his cowboy hat tilted back. Those dark brown eyes were locked on me like I was prey.

I didn’t answer. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it.

He took two steps toward me. His heavy boots made the wooden porch creak. His smell hit me first — beer, sweat, pine, and that warm, masculine scent that made me want to drop to my knees.

“You didn’t really think I wouldn’t know my little brother-in-law likes to suck cock, did you?” His voice was low, almost a growl. “Your sister told me on the first day. Said you were gay and shy. Poor little Gay Potter, so shy. I bet you’re not that shy when you’ve got a big cock shoved down your throat.”

He stopped less than a meter away. I could see the sweat droplets running down the middle of his chest, disappearing into the hair on his stomach. The bulge in his jeans was obvious. I couldn’t look away.

“I saw you staring when I took my clothes off to swim,” he continued, taking another step. Now he was close enough that I could feel the heat coming off his body. “Those little eyes behind your glasses couldn’t look away. And when I got out of the water… those boxers were glued to me. You saw my cock, didn’t you? It was half-hard from the cold… or maybe not just from the cold. I was thinking about your sister’s tight pussy, you know?”

My mouth was dry. I was shaking and he knew it. He knew he was much stronger than me.

Morgan lifted one big, calloused hand and, with two fingers, adjusted my glasses. The touch was light, but it made me shudder all over.

“Don’t worry, kid,” he murmured, his voice even rougher now. “I’m not gonna do anything you don’t want. I’m not some high-school bully anymore. I’m a grown man with a family, right? And now you’re family too, little brother-in-law. No need to shake when I talk to you.”

He leaned in. His mustache brushed lightly against my ear. His hot breath smelled like beer and man.

“Tonight, once your parents are asleep, you can come over to my cabin. The door will be open. I’ve got an idea for a game you’ll like, since you’re such a big reader. I did a little research on TikTok and saw the posts you like.”

He stepped back, but not far. The smile was slow, filthy, victorious.

“Think about it while you read your little book,” he said, turning to walk away. “And don’t forget your glasses. I want to make sure you see everything pretty clear. See ya later, Gay Potter.”

Morgan walked off with that wide, confident stride of a man who knows he’s wanted. I stayed there, pressed against the cabin wall, shaking, heart trying to beat its way out of my chest, his scent still in my nose…

And for the first time in a long time, I had zero desire to read.

The tension hung in the air like the July heat. And I could barely wait for the afternoon to end. It was going to be a very long wait.

All characters are consenting adults (18+). All acts depicted are consensual between the characters.