Imagine the two of us on a day hike into the winter hills. We pack light and travel fast, confident that our unquenchable energy and thirst for each other will sustain us as we explore the dark and mysterious wood.
We follow a secluded path along a winding and neglected trail. Crunching through the twisted, snow-capped brush, we trudge silently along.
Energized by the excitement of the unknown, you lead the way, glancing amusedly over your shoulder to check if I am keeping pace. I use your beautifully curved hips, perfectly molded to your one-piece ski suit, as a guide as you disappear into the thicket.
I loose sight of you for anxious moments at a time. Blinded by the snow shaken from the branches of overhead trees, I grope my way along until I break upon a unexpected clearing in the wilderness; a hidden glen of in the middle of the forest covered in an undisturbed blanket of freshly fallen snow.
I find you standing silently alone in the middle of this patch of glistening earth. You are the vision of an angel in a billowy frozen cloud of white. This secluded place, in seems, was magically created for us and, without a word spoken, we know that it is here that we shall pay homage to nature and our natural desires. We drop our packs and run toward each other, our steps mired by the snow’s depth. After what seems angonizing hours to travel so short a distance, we crash together in a long and loving embrace, passionately grinding our pelvises together.
With thickly gloved hands I awkwardly paw at your puffy protective clothing. As if peeling you like a piece of fresh fruit, I salivate in the anticipation of feasting on the juicy sweetness within. Roughly unclasping the top half of your suit, I manage to wrestle the down-filled sleeves off your supple shoulders leaving only a wool sweater between you and the elements. I press my body close to you to share my body heat as well as the growing swell of flesh from within the crotch of my ski pants. For a luxurious moment, you are completely helpless and at the same time dependent as you struggle to remove your ski gloves. With one last yank, they fall noiselessly to the forest floor.
Your raise your freed arms in mock submission. With one motion, I rip your sweater over your head. Your ski cap pops off and with it your silken hair shakes loose and then falls gently back about your cherubic face. The last article of clothing separating your alabaster skin from the cold is gone and your full and milky breasts burst free in the winter air.
Gasping and wide-eyed from the sting of the sudden cold, your nipples redden and protrude into two crimson cherries. You rasp deeply as your lungs become accustomed to the obviously burning, yet visibly erotic, sensation. The air expelled from your adrenaline charged body crystallizes and forms a languorous icy fog between us.
Delirious with desire and overcome by the sight of you exposed and bravely defying the harshness of your surroundings, I cover your chilled flesh with a flurry of warming kisses, each suckle leaving a bright mark that traces my mouthings from the curve of your neck, pausing greedingly on each succulent tit, and down the silky trail of hair upon your quivering tummy.
You stand me upright and, with the renewed vigor, begin you exposure of me. You effortlessly unzipped my down jacket and toss it aside into the snow. I continue to marvel at your seeming obliviousness to the cold -- you having stoked your inner flame with some mystical fire of feminine desire. You kneel in the foot deep snow before me. Easily unbuckling the fasteners of my ski pants, you triumphantly fold back the fly to claim your prize.
Without bothering to pull down my now straining underpants, you plunge your face into the warm, dark cavity. I am sent into heavenly bliss as you wrap your full, pouting lips completely around my bulge. Slowly you blow, toasting my cock and balls with your heated exhalation. I indicate my delirious pleasure with a series of long gutteral moans until, with a sudden a sudden and surprising jerk, you slip your hand over the waistband of my shorts and pull my engorged schlong free. You laugh, evilly, as I buck my hips in frantic reaction to my suddenly exposed manhood.
"Oh, shit It IS cold!” I howl as you maintain a vice-like grip on my now freezing man meat, not letting go no matter how desperately I squirm.
With a sly grin, you allow me to suffer a few more excruciating seconds and then, tenderly, you begin flicking your soft and glossy tongue along the mishandled, swollen shaft. I twitch uncontrollably with every healing lick as each sends stimulating tingles through my ass and up my spine.
