Working the axe as though it where a mere knife in butter, Brandon was quickly getting through the pile of logs from which he split the coming winter's fire wood. Standing astride the stump, Brandon grasped the next log to be split in his firm hand. With no effort at all, the axe was above his head and momentarily stationary before falling to the log, kindling falling to the floor. Brandon stood a good 6 feet tall and at times seemed the same broad. His powerful shoulders lent themselves to the task at hand though his shirt was clearly taught across his chest and arms as he worked in the early morning light. It was clear, even in this light that he had not yet shaved, the testosterone pumping through his veins where in a slighter man simply blood would flow. His working t-shirt was a long sleeved affair, originally cream though now more coffee coloured despite the attention of his wife. The buttons left undone, the top of the shirt revealed a chest that twitched, tensed and then relaxed with each wield of the axe.
His feet stood firm on the ground shoulder width apart, knees slightly bent. In a semi squat, his denim jeans were tight across his thighs and buttocks. Brandon barely moved his legs as he bent to lift more logs and move the resulting kindling. Again and again he bent over, lifted the axe and moved the kindling. From behind, sitting on the back porch, his wife Susanna sat holding her first coffee of the day. With her hands surrounding the cup, she continued to sip as she watched the sight of her man chop wood for their winter fires, the thought alone stirring memories of last winters fires and the times spent in their glow. As he bent, the t-shirt became taught for just a moment but it was long enough for Susanna to make out the definition that she had seen as he rose from bed that morn. The jeans tight across his buttocks revealed that they were as seemingly had as the wood he was chopping, topping powerful thighs that she would often admire in the summer when revealed by the cut-offs.
Brandon became aware of his audience and turned to acknowledge his baby. Her head held low, Susanna, looked over her mug, her eyes deep and clearly focusing on her man. Brandon smiled, tipping his head nonchalantly away from her. No response. Susanna took studying her man seriously and she wanted to savour every moment as the sun made its presence felt. Sat amongst the trees of the Northern Californian forest, their house was dappled in a warming glowing of the first morning of the weekend. Brandon had risen early to start work, leaving the girl whom he held more preciously than anything else to continue in her slumber. How gracefully she slept and now still wearing the same simple white cotton negligee, she sat drinking her coffee. It was not that it was too early to talk, it was just that Susanna was drinking in more than her coffee. She enjoyed watching her man work.
The sun was warm despite Thanksgiving being just days away. As he stood before her, the morning breeze played with Susanna's long flowing locks, with a natural bounce and soft curl, her hair fell backwards down her back. Susanna was perfectly formed and Brandon marvelled, revelling, standing in awe of her everyday. He knew that she was the person that he had waited his life for and no matter what, he would do anything to defend her. Susanna knew that and with that, he seemed all the more a man. Often considered quiet, she knew his as the strong silent type. Sometimes mysterious, always loving. Susanna was equally in love with Brandon.
Brandon turned to resume his task as he knew the drill. Susanna was here for the show and he enjoyed the attention, any man would. As the pile of kindling grew higher, Brandon became warmer and warmer. Susanna was now finished with her coffee and the sun was now skirting the top of the trees. A haze was building across the sky as the forest expelled the nightly moisture as though breathing its first breath of the day. Brandon was becoming warm, beads of sweat coursing down the centre of his back and were clearly traceable on his t-shirt, the coffee colour becoming darker with the moisture. He dropped the axe to his right and wiped his brow with his forearm before lifting the shirt from his waist and over his head. Throwing it to the floor, immediately becoming dusted with the pine needles and brown remnants of summer's foliage, the t-shirt was just a brush off away from being used again. That was the t-shirt that would be worn when Brandon was working, a psychological friend when working in the woods. Susanna suddenly took more interest. She could now see the sun-kissed torso of her man and as he turned to get more wood, the hair to the chest seemed to appear golden as the sun caught it. Casting a shadow across his firm stomach, the chest definition was clear to see.
