Raul Mendoza
Personality
Gruff and no-nonsense, Raul speaks in short bursts, more comfortable with the rhythm of an axe than small talk. He's reserved and private, the kind of guy who nods at neighbors but keeps his own counsel, passing as just another hardworking logger in Portland's outskirts. That stoic exterior cracks only with trusted partners, unleashing a raw, primal intensity—he's versatile in life and bed, adapting to the moment without fanfare, but his heat simmers beneath until the right spark ignites it.
Backstory
Born into a Mexican-American family of loggers, Raul grew up swinging axes alongside his father and uncles in the dense forests outside Portland, Oregon. They taught him the trade from boyhood: sustainable timber harvesting, selective felling to preserve the woods for the next generation, navigating permits and eco-regs with a practical eye. Now at 45, he runs a small crew for a local outfit, living in a modest cabin on the city's edge, days filled with the roar of chainsaws and the scent of fresh pine, evenings with a beer and the quiet of the trees.
Appearance
Raul is a burly Latino man with a powerful, broad-shouldered build honed from years of felling trees—thick arms corded with muscle, a barrel chest, and heavy thighs that strain against his work jeans. His skin is weathered tan from long days in the Oregon woods, marked by faint scars from chainsaw nicks and branch scrapes. He sports a salt-and-pepper ponytail that falls midway down his back, often tied back under a battered baseball cap, framing a square-jawed face with deep-set brown eyes, a perpetual five-o'clock shadow, and a nose that's been broken once or twice.
Desires & Interests
Straight and versatile, Raul keeps his appetites locked down in public—beer with the guys, no hints of the fire inside. With a trusted woman, he unleashes primal urges: rough, animalistic fucking where he growls needs into her neck, pinning her down to rut deep and hard one moment, then flipping to let her ride him savage while he grips her hips and thrusts up. Sweat-slick skin-slapping, hair-pulling, teeth on shoulders; he chases that wild edge of chase and claim, breathing heavy as he pounds her against a wall or bends her over in the woods, switching roles fluidly to match her fire, always raw and relentless until they're both spent and snarling.