Outside our holiday cabin, gale-force winds whipped falling snow chaotically. Was it coming down or being swept back up? I found the spectacle of whirring white over the backdrop of pine branches alluring, but Michael was in fight-or-flight mode. The zealous weather guy on our battery-powered radio only made it worse; he’d just upgraded the storm to a blizzard.
“If I put chains on the tires, we can make it down the mountain this morning,” Michael said as he rose from the mattress, pulling thermal underwear up over his half-hard cock.
Annoyed that he was no longer keeping me warm, I wrapped the colorful quilt around myself and went to the fire. His suggestion that we leave early was preposterous. So what if we were snowed in? We had plenty of food and firewood. Isn’t this what we came for? With the orange light of the flames toasting my ankles and toes, I reminded him of all this. Yes, it was disconcerting being without electricity, I said, but what did we really need it for? Wouldn’t a break from the internet be nice?
He eventually admitted that it’d be reckless to attempt to drive before the roads were cleared. I could tell he felt defeated. He glared out at the deluge. It was just like him to sulk over a storm.
Hoping to improve his mood, I let the quilt around me drop and stood naked in the cozy, rustic room. Golden light shined on all of my skin, the tops of my inner thighs glistened from our sunrise play. My newly shaved vulva almost sparkled in the glow. I pressed a finger to my clitoris and said, “Michael, I have an idea.”
The spare room of the cabin was cluttered with hunting supplies and clothes from decades past, remnants from Michael’s long-dead grandfather that his family had been too busy to sort through. I found an old field skinner and took mischievous delight in fashioning an outfit for myself: thigh-high warm pants, freed from the tedious coverings over crotch and bottom; a winter parka with holes cut so my breasts would protrude. It looked utterly ridiculous, but that didn’t matter; no one was around for miles.
“You’ll get frostbitten!” This, from the man who wanted to drive down a mountain in a blizzard.
“Just one snow angel. Then you can save me.”
Since the notion bloomed, all I could think about was powdery coldness packed around my bum and labia, wind stinging my nipples.
It turned out that Michael had ideas of his own. Before we stepped outside, he knelt and gathered saliva on his tongue. He licked between my legs, glossing me with his spit. I twitched with pleasure, and leaned into his mouth until his tongue slipped between my folds. His gloved hands squeezed my ass and I wondered what a Gore-Tex finger would feel like at the opening there. But first, there was snow to be savored.
Only after my vulva was visibly slick, Michael opened the cabin door and we stepped out into the wonderland. Frigid air slammed my exposed breasts and pelvis, upper thighs and bottom. The exhilaration lasted a second. And then my wet cunt went ablaze with frost. I moaned without meaning to.
“This was a bad idea,” I said, trying not to sound distressed, but feeling very much so.
“I disagree entirely.” I had never seen him this turned on.
He gathered more spit and licked each of my nipples. I gasped, surprised that everything about this was much more painful than I had expected. “Let’s go back.”
“You’re safe.” He circled an arm around my shoulder. “Come on, just a quick walk.”
The snow was more than ten inches deep, cumbersome to move through. It seemed within half a dozen labored steps actual ice coated my vulva and nipples. When I wrapped my arms around my torso, Michael pulled them down. “I want to see you.” He breathed in my ear, “You look so fucking hot.”
He was like an exaggerated version of himself and the way he looked at me almost made the acute, freezing sting worth it.
Now that the wind had died down, snow and ice settled on the tree branches around us. Before long, we got to a clearing near the stream. Michael snapped an icicle off one of the dogwood limbs and ran the length of it against my labia.
“Let’s put this in your cunt, baby.”
I wanted to want it, but my skin was burning. The thought of anything other than a warm, dry bed was frightful. I whimpered, but Michael didn’t hear pain.
My teeth began chattering. Still, he pressed his gloved fingers between my legs to open my lips for the frozen shaft. Under the pressure of his hand, the ice coating me gave an audible crack. Sobs choked from my throat, shook my upper body.
As if by reflex, Michael had his coat off and around me, its length just enough to cover my numb bottom. Before I could say anything, he lifted me into his arms and began running towards the cabin.
He sped all the way home, faster and stronger than I knew him to be. All the way, he held me tight saying, “You’ll be warm. You’ll be warm.”
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