NOW
Jesse watched as Delilah swung her ax with amazing power for a girl with such a small frame. The wood split instantly and he was quick to pick up the halves and toss them onto a pile resting in the sun before he took another log and placed in on the stump.
Delilah gazed at him, her tone arms and chiseled shoulders flexing from the sleeveless shirt she wore, tied beneath her pert breasts. She nodded and tossed Jessie the ax -- he caught it easily and took a few practice swings, appreciating how the Husqvarna splitting ax was a prefect balance of top heaviness and maniability.
"Father wants those logs split by sundown, Jess," Delilah said as she undid her shirt and pulled it off. She stood there in a pair of cut off jeans and a sports bra. "The sun's getting low, so you only got a few hours."
Jessie was dressed in jeans and a thick plaid shirt, harkening back to the lumberjacks of yore his thick beard had sought to emulate. Not the best garb on a hot July afternoon -- but it was a necessity if he wanted to be accepted by Father and the other members of the Ash House congregation. And, as Delilah undid her cut off jeans and pulled them down, exposing her tight, dark panties, he swung the ax because he wanted Delilah. The log split and the ax head sank deep into the stump -- Delilah let out a sigh and sat on the ground, slipping a hand down the front of her panties.
Jessie's brow dampened as he tossed the halves of the split log and put another one on the stump and swung the ax, his eyes riveted to the spot between Delilah's thighs. He could see how her fingers moved beneath the fabric, tracing little circles and sliding up and down her obviously wet slit. Blood had engorged his cock, for his erection against his jeans but he ignored instinct and split another log.
"Oh yeah, just like that Jessie," Delilah cooed as she pinched her growing nipples through her black sport bra. Her breath came in ragged gasps as Jessie split log after log while his sweat drenched his jeans and heavy flannel shirt.
He relentlessly swung the ax and tossed the split wood onto the pile -- the wooden handle made blisters appear in his palm but he ignored the pain while Delilah had leaned forward on the ground and worked her pussy into a frenzy, her eyes closed tight and sloshing sounds emanated from between her thighs.
While Jessie concentrated on his ax before the spectacle of Delilah fingering herself to orgasm, a man had stepped out onto the balcony of the secluded cabin Delilah had brought Jessie to. The man wore white shorts and a long, sleeveless, kimono like robe. He was tall well muscled, his dark brown skin highlighted in the setting sun, while his wise, piercing brown eyes observed Jessie and Delilah without judgment. Other faces had appeared in the windows of the cabin -- a collection of ethnicities and ages from young adults to weathered elders -- the congregation of Ash House approved of Jessie's work and all clapped their hands once in unison when Delilah came, wetting her panties and filling the ambient air with the scent of her musky come.
"You've done well, both of you," the man on the balcony declare in a booming voice and he went back into the cabin.
THEN
"Do you know what we are, Jesse Holland?" the man called Father asked, his voice soothing and understanding. Father was dressed in his silk, white kimono but this time without the matching shorts, and his flaccid cock bounced left and right as he walked among the members of the congregation.
Jesse was seated on a simple wooden chair in front of the 20 or so members of Ash House. Their seats mirrored his, but where he wore a black tee and skinny jeans and Doc Martens, the congregation wore robes like Father's, or they wore nothing at all. Delilah moved about the assembly and lit candles and oil lamps -- the dancing flames made Father seem to melt with the shadows, letting only his knowing eyes to peer from the dark.
"Delilah said you were a community -- not a cult. This looks a lot like a cult."
The congregation burst out into loud chuckles as Delilah, dressed in a green silk robe that hugged her moderate curves, took a seat next to a smiling Father.
"Perhaps we are a cult -- or a community. Who knows? But what I am sure of, Jesse Holland, is that we are a collection of naked souls who seek to establish a balanced relationship with Mother nature."
Jesse shifted on his wooden chair -- even though he was the most dressed in the room, he felt strangely like the most vulnerable person in the room.
Father continued: "We seek to free ourselves of the contrivances of society -- but we do so through discipline and hard work. As you progress, the uniform of civilization will melt away and chores and duties will become pleasures and leisure."
Jesse Holland stroked his stylish beard and reasserted his assurance and asked: "How do you know that's why I'm here?"
Father walked up and moved behind Jesse, placing his strong, calloused hands on the younger man's shoulders. "You're here and that's what matters. You'll learn answers to questions you never knew you had."
Father moved around Jesse, his muscled arms opened in a flourish. "Learn the tools and trades of our forebears, Jesse Holland, and become a balanced individual and a worthy child of Mother Nature!"
"Yes! Yes Father! Be free Jesse!"
Members of the Ash House congregation clapped and whopped at Father's words -- two of the young men were so excited that they pulled down their white shorts and kissed as an older woman in her fifties, but healthy and sexually hungry, pulled her robe off and dropped to her knees and grasped the erect penises of the younger men.