Seven Is My Lucky Number

The storm was coming and I had things to do before I was ready to weather it. I pulled my truck up to the front of my cabin an

d immediately attached my snow chains. If there was a reason to go, it would be easier to do that if they were already on the tires. Once that was done, I boarded the windows, got a fire going in the fireplace, set up my backup generator, and made sure the fuel was filled.

Perfect.

The fire would be enough to keep me warm, especially with the amount of wood I had, but I didn’t want to take any chances. The locals still talked about the storm that came through in the 1950s when the weatherman predicted a light dusting, but instead the area got a blizzard of epic proportions that shut things down for weeks. Unfortunately, some people froze to death before it was over. I had enough supplies to last for months, so that wasn’t going to be an issue. If there was one thing the corporate world taught me before I left it all behind, it was to prepare for the unexpected.

“Okay...” I looked around the cabin with a satisfied smile. “Time for a drink.”

I filled my favorite glass and lifted one of the cigars to my nose, inhaling the pleasant aroma of a plantation somewhere in South America that didn’t even know what snow was. I sat down in my chair and sipped whiskey while the first sounds of the storm really started to hit the side of the mountain. It already sounded worse than predicted.

I lit the end of my cigar and let the smoke seep out of the edge of my lips. I had everything I needed, except a good set of lips around my cock or a tight pussy in my lap. Women were just more trouble than they were worth. I had one once—a damn good one—or so I thought. I lifted my glass angrily to her memory.

Here’s to you, bitch. This place is perfect because you’re not here.

She was gorgeous with an ass I could stare at for hours, but I rarely took time to stare. Usually I was fucking something—mouth, pussy, ass—I didn’t care. I loved everything about her, from the way she enthusiastically swallowed my cock, to her insatiable appetite for taking it in every damn hole.

We were young and stupid. We liked fucking each other so much we thought that was worth marrying over and as fun as it was, it was the only thing we really had in common. She was a spoiled brat who thought she should have everything she wanted and I ran a minimalist, frugal household dedicated to saving and preparing for the future.

Fuck being responsible, right?

My dream was to retire to a nice cabin in the woods and live off the land. Her dream was to build a mansion and hire people to do everything for her—just like she had growing up. The company I was working for required a lot of extra time and she hated that, until it took off and my stocks were worth more than her Daddy’s fortune.

She hit me with the divorce papers the minute I told her I wasn’t interested in building her dream house because I didn’t want to waste money when we had all we needed in our tiny two-bedroom home. Fifty percent wasn’t enough to break my wallet, but it was enough to break my spirit. It crushed every bit of trust I had for members of the opposite sex.

A few months later I saw her out with another man—a man I once called a friend—and I lost it. My ex-wife and I started yelling at each other in the middle of the restaurant, laying out everything we hated about each other. Somewhere in there, she confessed she had been sleeping with him during our marriage. All I could see was red. I took a swing at him and while I connected with his jaw, he acted like I had just broke his neck. He played it up like a bitch, falling on the floor, wailing, and when the doctors got done with him, he had conditions I had never heard of. It was bad enough that I lost my cool and punched him—I found I didn’t like that side of myself, with rage and jealousy coming out in the form of a monster who lost control.

When my lawyer started talking legitimate jail time, over a punch that barely connected, I knew I was about to be railroaded by a system I didn’t trust. I packed everything in the back of my truck and left. As much as they might have wanted to prosecute me, they weren’t going to chase me across the country for an assault charge when the case was shit to begin with.

“Fuck people...” I muttered as I stared at the burning tip of my cigar.

I didn’t like thinking about that shit. I was happy in my new life. I retired early and my dream came true. I was living off the land and didn’t have to worry about anything. I pushed the anger of my ex-wife’s betrayal out of my head and started thinking about the blonde goddess I saw on the road. I might not be able to fuck her, but I could do a lot of things to her in my head.

My hand slid down to my cock and I caressed it through my jeans. It was more than ready for a little bit of fun. I slid my boots off and then tossed my clothes on the floor by the fire. They would be nice and toasty if I got cold again.

I took another sip of my whiskey and caught a glimpse of my naked body in a mirror. Six years in the mountains had transformed my body. I was no longer thin and athletic. My muscles had grown and hardened over the years, especially my upper torso. As well defined as they were, there was one muscle that needed a real workout, so I sat down in the chair and let my cigar rest in my lips.

I knew it wasn’t going to be a marathon when I wrapped my hand around my cock. The sensitivity reminded me of my teenage years when I barely had to touch it to get off.

“Damn that feels good...” I muttered as I gave myself a few strokes.

I always preferred the real thing over jacking off, but I had to do it from time to time just to keep myself from going insane. Even after six years alone, it still didn’t make me cum like a nice tight pussy, but it was enough when I thought about the baggage that came with an actual relationship.

Just a quick release—then I can drink in peace.

I puffed on my cigar, stroking my cock with my eyes closed. The image of the blonde goddess filled my thoughts and I imagined her there in front of me, ready and willing to bend both knees and wrap those gorgeous lips around throbbing cock. That would just be the beginning, of course, because I would fuck her like she had never been fucked before.

Every hole. All mine.

It was nice to have a face to go with my fantasy for a change. Normally it was just a faceless wonder with big tits, a nice ass, and a soft mouth. I hated that I hadn’t seen the blonde goddess’s eyes; I would have loved to know what shade of perfect I would have been staring into when I made her cum.

I lasted longer than I thought I would, but there wasn’t much build. When it was ready, the pre-cum was already erupting so I had to quickly grab a towel for the finish. It was a lot of cum. The reserves hadn’t been emptied in a while. I stared at the mess and sighed at the sight of it on the towel when it could have been inside of someone who would have enjoyed it.

“Oh man...” I shook my head. “What a waste.”

I continued drinking and enjoying my cigar until the latter was burned out and the former needed a refill. I flipped on the television and surfed the channels, finding the weatherman rapidly filling the audience in on how off his prediction was. It was going to be a real storm after all—even he had to admit his fucking mistake.

I went back to my chair and watched for a little while longer before deciding it was time to retire for the evening. I filled the fireplace up with enough wood to last the night and walked into the bedroom, feeling a heaviness in my eyelids as I stared at the bed. As much as I liked the peace and quiet, there was something about the city I missed, and that was the dull roar when I went to sleep.