Dirty Old Man Logan (Patreon)

Logan guessed he was supposed to be happy here. Not his world, but his world had been all busted anyway. This one was shiny and new. The villains hadn’t risen. The heroes hadn’t died. His friends were still alive. His wife was still out there. His children hadn’t been born—couldn’t very well have been murdered.

Guessed he was supposed to be overjoyed to see them all again, like it had never happened, like he had never been that guy. Like he could forget what he’d gone and done to Jubilee, just because someone had flipped off the power and then turned it back on. No. No, he couldn’t take being around them. Them being alive reminded him too much of them being dead.

And he could tell himself this wasn’t really his world, his past—everyone wore less, fucked more, maybe he was getting old—but damn, did he ever need to be apart from it. No old memories, nothing to suck him in again and make him think he was back there, back before, like in a nightmare you thought was a dream till it all went bad. 

The girl, Laura, he’d never seen her before. Wasn’t in any of his bad dreams. Her Logan had managed to go and get himself killed (guess he was smart’r’n you, old man) so she’d latched onto him. It raised the hairs on the back of his neck, having her even downrange of being dependent on him, but he’d lost too many kids to turn his back on this one.

Not that she was a kid. She was old enough to drive this old pile of a Ford, not that he’d let her. Not when she needed sleep so bad it’d taken the bad suspension and nagging tranny to lull her down, put her in a haze against the window on the passenger side. He’d known far too many women to think she was that either. She was somethin’ in between. Not a girl, not yet a woman—he wondered if they had that here. Kitty hadn’t been able to get enough of that bubblegum crap…

On a long stretch of backcountry road with the ruts so worn he barely needed to touch the steering wheel, he looked at her. Soft and smooth-skinned and slightly gawky, but with hints of the woman to come. Her lips were full and pouting, her breasts just the same under her shirt, with no bra to hold them. The milky whiteness of her untanned skin and the unlined innocence of her girlish face were pure youth, pure vitality… looked a million miles from what he felt. He wondered how the hell someone coulda gotten her outta somethin’ like him.

The muddy road became the bank of a hill, and the pick-up wheezed and chugged as it went to fetch a pail of water. He’d have to work on the engine. Fine—they had time. Laura had asked to go with him to get things under control, and that meant patience and that meant time. It hadn’t done anything for him and the bad news in his head, but maybe it’d be something for her.

The Ford finally lugged its way into the shed next to the cabin. He got out, grabbed his duffel from the truckbed, hauled it and everything else off into the cabin. It didn’t take many trips. Both he and the girl packed light. Besides, he was feeling stronger. Something about this world, Earth-Shiny, Earth-New, was kickstarting his healing factor back, makin’ him so young you could almost think he was this whelp’s father instead of her grandpappy. Gray in his beard, white in his hair, pitch-black memories behind his eyes. 

Maybe it was just that since he’d popped his claws again, the old adrenaline was flowing once more. Making him what he was born t’ be. What he was supposed t’ be.

Laura was up when he went back to the truck for her. He’d thought to pick her up, carry her inside. He’d done it enough for Kitty, for Jubilee, after the missions where they’d gotten so excited it couldn’t possibly last for the Blackbird’s ride home. Weird how he was the one of them with the lightest touch. 

She wasn’t asleep, though. Not without him. “Truck smells different when you’re gone,” she reported, her caustic monotone too heavy to really be disinterested. “Bad.”

“And I don’t?” He scratched his neck. “Guess that’s what they call a compliment.”

***

They didn’t have indoor plumbing, just an outhouse and a shower outside connected to the pump. Hauling up water from the well and lighting a fire under the old brass tub got you a hot bath.

Laura didn’t care about any of that. She swam in the cold waters of the lake. 

Logan could see it from his porch. The water was crystal-clear, as light as a teardrop. Laura’s body showed up white and flashing through it, like she was floating in shadows with a spotlight on her. He saw her dark hair glossing down her back, her dark features as she sucked in breath, and everything else. Everything young and pert and succulent. 

***

The new world wasn’t all dancing, all singing. The economy was in the toilet and for most people, hunting cabins had become indulgences to run from. So they had the run of the mountain. 

Not much to do up there. Logan set a rule—no hunting unless they were hungry, and preserve everything after the kill. He didn’t want to run up a tally on the local wildlife out of boredom. The fish he was more lenient on. That kind of patience could come in handy to a young girl, but as he expected, Laura could only pace herself with fishing for so long. But longer each day.

Mostly what he tried to teach her was meditation. He knew no one expected the ninjutsu shit from him, he had forgotten half of it himself, but the kids, they loved that crap, right? That and anime. 

He found her a nice meadow, sat her down on it, left her contemplating the sound of one hand clapping. When he came back, she’d chopped down two trees and was working her claws through the trunk of another one like it was a punching bag.

***

They went down into town twice a week. They could stock up, hoard supplies, but Logan didn’t want them to be that disconnected. Wanted this to be a ritual, a reminder it wasn’t just them and the woods.

He and Laura pulled up to the minimart. There was a group of good old boys day-drinking by the propane tanks. They saw Laura and it started a circle jerk conversation. Logan tried not to hear as he went inside for his order.

Laura’d taken to wearing his things. Made sense—there wasn’t much in the cabin but his things, and short as he was, most of it fit her. Jeans, flannel jackets, A-shirts… he was used to girls in tight clothing, but there was something about when it was all loose and empty, hanging off ‘em like they were waifs, their bodies slipshod inside all that fabric. In a baggy tanktop, he could still see Laura’s breasts, when the shirt hung too low or too open, or did damn near anything. Another reason to go into town; she wore a bra there.

Wherever they went, their scents were mingled. His and hers, if not hers and his. The closest they came was washing with the same bar of soap. Logan supposed he should order a different brand. 

His order was waiting for him inside, already bagged and packed in a milk crate. He paid, took it and his mail and the package of books the owner had put on order for him as a special courtesy, then went out to drop the load in back of the truck. Laura hadn’t moved.

“They’re saying they want to fuck me,” she said when Logan got in. Her eyes were downcast, but he knew she could see the good old boys through her hanging hair.

Logan started the truck and wrenched the gearshift through its positions. “Don’t take it too personal. They wanna fuck everything around these parts.”

“It’d been a long time since someone fucked me,” Laura said.

***

They ate around the dinner table, which Logan thought was about the most fucked up part of the whole enterprise. He cooked, since Laura was hopeless at it, or would be until she bothered to try. He served her fish, clean and gutted, and she turned her nose up at it in a way she just hadn’t when the blood was fresh and the life was still in it.

“I can’t eat this.”

“It’s fish. Even vegetarians eat it.”

“It’s not what I want.”

“Well, I wanted it, so I cooked it, so if you wanna eat something, you’d better eat this.”

She started carving it up—he thought more to be cutting something than because she didn’t want to eat the salmon whole. 

“Did you care?” Laura asked, stuffing her face, talking with her mouth full.

“About what?” Logan replied, not looking up from his meal.

“About those guys trying to fuck me.”

“If I thought they had the balls to try anything, then I would.”

“It doesn’t bother me that they look at me and they want me?”

“You can handle yourself.”

“You should fight them for me. You shouldn’t let them want something that isn’t theirs.”

“If you’re going to masturbate, do it in your own room,” he interrupted. “If it’s in the rest of the house, I can smell it. Bothers me.”

“You can smell it in my room too.” Knowing she wouldn’t get an answer from him, Laura picked up her plate and licked it. “This tastes better raw.”

***

Out of meat again, so he let Laura go out hunting. He was getting bored of the taste too. Maybe he’d start a garden. He’d been pretty good at that, back in his own world.

With the cabin to himself, he rigged up the shower and let it pour down on him. Warmed by the sun, both his skin and the water, the bathing was soothing and enjoyable. He felt like the water was rubbing on his muscles, working out kinks he hadn’t known had been there. Being alone, or the next best thing to it, had been good for him.

His prick awakened, summoned by the warm flush that had pooled in his groin, the thoughts of Laura’s nakedness in his keen eyesight, her long legs and tight ass under the rippling water like a painting behind glass. He wouldn’t think of her. He wouldn’t think of her, but he would take care of the problem.

He thought of Emma instead. Probably cheese Summers off, probably give Frost a good laugh. He imagined teasing that perfect skin with the tips of his claws, making the itsy-bitsy nicks that’d be all it took to let her voluptuous body burst out of the semi-nothing she wore.

He jerked himself as he thought of how she’d be offended, incensed, trying to hide herself like that wasn’t a laugh, but then she’d like it. Oh yes, she would like it. She’d get from him what she’d been trying to bring out of One-Eye all along. She’d bend for him, open for him, scream for him. And she’d love his cock, yeah, yessirree, but what she’d really appreciate was the wait as he made his incisions, working his claws around just as much as it took for all that white to come off and be replaced by that perfect tan. Then he’d start in on it. See what the ice queen looked like all flushed and red and sweaty. He’d take that fat ass and give it a nice ol’ spanking, right on top of his knee where it belonged, like she’d been beggin’ for ever since he first laid eyes on her.

Then he sniffed her. Not Emma. Laura. The running water and suds of soap had dulled his senses, but the acrid tang of her arousal snapped into his nostrils like a whip cracking. He turned and saw her coming out of the brush, wearing only her boots, her panties, and his thick flannel jacket, its unbuttoned length hanging down to mid-thigh on her, the lining drifting between her breasts, down her carved stomach to the incongruous white of her panties, soft and supple.

She had a dead doe on her shoulder, its blood further staining his much-abused jacket, some of it smeared on Laura’s face, in her hair, over her chest. Drips of it marking her skin. 

She dropped the meat and came closer to him. He shut his eyes and kept thinking of Emma. Wanted to finish fast. He knew he should stop, but it felt too damn good, a berserker rage but not of anger, of lust and desire and need. He imagined Emma in nothing but her cute little fur cape, down on her back for him, taking his cock between those perfect tits of hers, big enough to smother his prick. How her icy face would get all warm and red, staring at his big red member coming through her knockers, expression twisted and incensed, but her eyes alight with interest. It’d all be worth it just to hear the shit she spewed as he fucked those soft teats, squeezing them as he pressed them together on his prick, feeling the nipples get harder and harder as he went faster through her cleavage. Then, hearing the moan of distress coupled with the look of satisfaction as he came in her face, came all over her face—

“Hrrrrgh!” Logan gurgled as he spilled his seed, picturing it with such clarity it might as well have been a memory. His ejaculation went on and on, he felt the throb of it rattling his hand, the hot flare tingling his cockhead over and over again. Yeah, coming on Emma’s face, so much that it ran down on her tits—he’d finish off in her mouth, once he’d painted that face, just shove himself in there with the last of his hardness and make her swallow. He knew she’d lick it up either way, but he wanted to make her admit it, not let her evince disgust at all the spunk dripping off her. He wanted the perverse excitement in her eyes, the quick submission of letting him know that she needed his cum trickling down her throat.

He opened his eyes. Laura had come closer, standing on the porch with him, the deer drug behind her by one outstretched arm. His shot had gone an impressive distance, landing in a puddle on the wooden floorboards between the two of them. About six feet from him and six feet from her. The water continued beating down on Logan, washing off some of the fierce sweat that had sprung up on him, the musk of his climax that seemed to cling to his senses.

The orgasm had done nothing to assuage his lust. His member was still stingingly, punishingly hard. And he still watched as Laura bent over, to grip her panties and then peel them down her slender legs.

“Laura,” Logan groaned, his eyes burning.

She lifted first one foot, then the other, stepping out of her panties. Standing, she was naked from the waist down, her borrowed jacket only covering swaths of thigh. He could see the swell of her labia, her clit throbbing hotly, her sex very wet. Curls of dark hair ran along her pussy, trim but evident, and seeing them all made Logan’s eyes feel as if they were about to come out of his head.

Laura parted her feet, arching her hips forward slightly, opening herself up to him. Logan gulped as he stared. His cock throbbed into a fuller hardness than any fantasy could generate. She held out her panties to him. He lifted a shaking hand, then lowered it to his side in a fist.

“This ain’t right,” he said huskily.

“There’s right and wrong?” she asked. “For us? For animals?”

“…not an animal,” Logan grumbled hesitantly.

“You are with me.”

She stepped closer, a bare foot hitting the pool of cum he’d left, and didn’t stop until she was so close that the mist from the shower was hitting her, making the blood marking her unspool into foggy softness. She turned her panties inside out and held them up, the wet crotch right in Logan’s face. His eyes half-closed as he smelled her cunt on them, almost felt the wetness on his lips.

“Aren’t you, Logan?” she whispered. She dropped her panties and Logan caught them in one meaty fist, feeling the wetness between his fingers as Laura stepped back, her bare body vibrating sweetly inside his jacket. Her breasts seemed swollen, her nipples ready to burst. She stared at Logan as he stared back at her. His squinting eyes swiveled up and down, seeing her tits, then the bush of her womanhood. His cock throbbed powerfully.

Logan turned off the water and stood there, soaking wet, his mane of dark hair showered to his shoulders, his muscular body bristling with the water droplets that plastered his body hair to his skin.

“Show me again,” Laura urged hotly. “And this time think of me, only me!”

Logan wrapped her panties around his cock, the crown bulging tightly at their crotch, and Laura was fascinated by the slow dampness that formed there. He appeared to be luxuriating in the feel of the body-warm material on his skin, the mingling of their scents as it drifted up to his flaring nostrils.

Laura’s dark eyes smoldered. Her fingers trembled about the lining of her jacket. She opened it wider, enough to see the points of her nipples, but the exposure wasn’t as arousing to Logan as the hesitance she displayed for a split-second, taking a deep breath before she flung the garment off.

Logan’s eyes were huge as he stared at her. Her breasts strained out, nipples jutting upward. They were larger than he’d expected from the girl, almost out of proportion to her lissome frame, but they fit, counterweighting her surprisingly womanly hips. Away from those curves, her body narrowed, her belly pinching inward, her arms slender but packed with muscle, her legs firm and long. She cupped her tits, lifting them, thumbing her rigid nipples as her eyes blazed at his cock stirring inside her panties. 

Gazing at Laura’s nakedness, Logan closed his fist around his manhood and jerked it up and down once more.

Laura’s eyes strained as she watched him masturbate, and he huffed with excitement, his eyes riveted upon the thick, silky bush of her cunt. His fist raced up and down his cock in short, jerky motions. Laura felt her sex responding to his display. Her clit vibrated from the tensed lips of her pussy and she squeezed her thighs together tightly. Her whole body seemed to shine with strange feelings. She leaned against the porch’s handrail before she fell down.

“Look at me!” she hissed, and parted her legs. She thrust her hips forward, her cunt showing. She ran one hand down between her thighs, a finger on each side of her juicy wetness. Her clit thrust between her fingers and she began to rub it. “See it, Logan! Look at it and jerk yourself off!”

The words his clone was saying sent a shaking delight through Logan as he stared hungrily at her cunt, his fist pounding faster and faster on his cock. The nylon of her panties stretched around his bulging cockhead, the dark spot growing wider. 

Laura shivered and rubbed at her cunt, making sure her fingers never covered the open need of her clit. Her eyes lashed at Logan’s cockhead with liquid heat, anxious to see how much he would shoot this time. Her legs shook, becoming weak. There was a fire inside her cunt that she had never felt before. Her fingers, sliding along the lips of her cunt, made a wet sound. She opened her thighs a bit more, bending her knees and bracing herself on the railing. 

Logan’s eyes seemed unfocused as he stared between her thighs, beating his fist frantically on his cock. She felt as if she were going to come for him, yet the feeling refused to burst. She twisted her ass, moaning softly, gazing at Logan as he jacked off in a frenzy, throwing the shower’s dampness off him in gales of raindrops.

“Look at me, Logan!” she sobbed hotly. “Do it for me! Come in my panties!”

Logan’s only response was quicker gasps.

Laura wanted to come, wanted to very badly, yet each time she felt as if it would happen, it just seemed to go away instead. It was as if she needed permission. As if someone hadn’t given her permission.

Feverishly, she shoved both hands between her legs and wantonly began to smash the hairy lips of her pussy down as hard as she could. Sweat was flowing all over her body as she strained to come, feeling total abandonment with Logan watching her, pleasuring himself with her.

She growled as she crushed her fingers against her clit, agitating it nearly to the point of violence. Her hips whipped about as she rubbed brutally on her swollen nub. Her eyes never left Logan’s cock or pounding fist.

“Logan!” she cried, her lovely face contorting with torment. “I can’t come! I can’t!”

Logan heard her frustrated cries, but his balls were aching harder than ever, pounding like a Cherokee drum as they drew tight into his crotch. His fist banged up and down with feverish movement, his eyes burning on Laura’s hairy pussy. Watching her fingers flying in a frenzy; her own agitated pleasure. He heard the wet sounds she made.

With a jerk of his body, cum gushed out of his cock. Laura’s jaw dropped as she watched her panties serve as a tissue for his masturbation, quickly becoming drenched, dripping with his cum. Logan kept jacking his prick as he came, and within moments, her panties were lost in seed.

For a moment, Logan slumped his shoulders, his eyes dreamy, Laura’s panties dangling from the head of his half-hard prick. Then, with a sudden growl, he was upon Laura, hard again. He spun her around, bent her over the railing, and drove into her, knowing damn well that she was wet enough to take him. And if she wasn’t, she would be soon.

And she could take him, just barely, she still had to stretch so much that she could feel it, his big cock opening her up as he rutted into her, putting his hands on her shoulders and holding her down for him to fuck, pumping into Laura, his hips hitting her ass so hard it was like he was spanking her, his breathing tense and snarled, his body hair rasping against her flesh where it met, along their bare legs and the backs of her thighs and the swell of her ass, she could feel Logan everywhere and nowhere, but especially his hands, big warm callused hands gripping her shoulders as hard as he knew she could take it, holding her in place he fucked her so hard it was like they were pulling her down on his cock, he was goddamn mating her, he was making her his bitch, he was fucking her, yes, finally, he was inside her and over her and fucking her.

“Yer mine, darlin’!” he grunted out, impaling her on his cock, driving in as deep as he’d ever gone.”Unnngh, markin’ my turf!”

His claws popped to either side of her face as he came, making her come, split-seconds after him, but after him. Second to her alpha. Going into back-breaking paroxysm as he unloaded inside her, into the deepest parts of her, once, twice, three times, filling every corner of her pussy. Laura kept spasming long after she was full, wishing she had room for more. She gritted her teeth, trying not to scream, but it was no use. When he pulled out in a maelstrom of exiting cum, she moaned as if in agony, then held her tongue again, panting away the heat that could never be satisfied.

“There,” he said, slapping the panties onto her back, the cum plastering them there. “You got what you wanted. Wash up before you come inside or you’ll stink the whole place up.”

He left, still smelling of cum and their mingled scents, and Laura knew he had to be alone for a while, as he knew so much about what she needed. She moved on shaking legs to the showerhead, picking up her panties as they peeled wetly down her back. Practically all of it glistened wetly. 

Not turning the water on, she stared at the evidence of his desires. With a shiver she drew the panties to her face, closing her eyes as a sensation of rapture seemed to burn through her naked body. She licked their crotch, sucking at the cum her alpha had left there. It was hot and sweet. She sucked hard on her tongue as it came back dripping with warm seed.

And she came.

The explosion of her orgasm ripped her to pieces. Her eyes shot open and she shook hard, her cunt convulsing like never before. She stood naked in the open air, coming wildly, her panties caught between her teeth, eyes huge but not seeing anything.

The climax seemed to go on for a long time, and when it finally ended, she was so weak she slumped down on her ass, leaning on her knees with her head in her arms.

She had never come so strongly in her life.

It hadn’t been Logan’s cock that’d done it. It’d been knowing that she was his mate.