I can barely see you out in front of me as you tear down the snowy mountain, digging edges with your birthday present; a new snowboard. The shredded, virginal powder delicately sprinkles into my face, across my sunglasses. If it were anyone else in front of me, I'd tell you to slow down. But it's that perfect, heart-shaped ass that keeps my mouth shut. What man would really speak up when he has the opportunity to stare at such a great body? As your gorgeous backside moves left and right with your snowboard, I can't help to think to myself: "I gotta get my hands on that."
We reach a plateau on the mountain and you wait for me to catch up. As I pull up next to you, I'm panting heavily, but it has nothing to do with being tired. My heart is racing. My brow is sweating. All I can think about is peeling those tight, black ski pants down to your ankles, and licking every inch of you.
"I'm ready to head back to the cabin for a drink with the crew. What do you think?" It's an innocent enough question to me, but my mental capacity is focused on trying to get you naked, not hanging out with the rest of the friends we're traveling with.
I answer with minimal enthusiasm. "Yeah, I guess. That sounds cool." Skiing down the mountain, my thoughts were completely lost in formulating a plan to get close to you. I completely forgot about the others. We have been friends since grade school, but I never had the opportunity to make any moves on you. As far as you knew it, we've always been friends – and that's it. Nothing romantic, Hot, or sexual ever happened between the two of us. To you, grabbing a drink was simply that, and nothing more. To me, it was an opportunity to wrap my hands around that sexy body, but I knew my options were limited with so many other people around 24 hours a day. For now, I would have to be content just fantasizing.
Before my thoughts are finished, you race down the hill yelling, "Last one down buys the drinks!" I laugh to myself, and mumble, "I'll be last as long as I can keep the view I like..."
Halfway down, you find a snow bank that looks inviting. You tear off to the side, building speed, trying to line up for a daredevil-type of jump. Your board hits the ramp perfectly, and launches you much higher than you expected. The landing isn't strong as your board edge catches an icy patch of snow, and launches you forward. All I see is a rolling, tumbling ball of snow, hair, and lusciously tight ski pants. I release my board bindings as quickly, and race over to you. I'm worried you're hurt, but I run up to the distinct sound of laughter. Snow covers one entire side of your face, and has matted itself throughout your hair.
"I'm guessing you're OK?" I asked anxiously.
Through the giggling, I can hear you spitting out snow. "Yeah, I'm alright. I'm more embarrassed than hurt, but I think I pulled my right hamstring."
I delicately help you to your feet, as you immediately transfer your weight off that pulled muscle. You drape your right arm around my neck and shoulder, looking for a little support. I put my arm around your waist, trying to help you, but my mind isn't on your injury. I feel terrible about it, but I can't ignore the fact I want this body draped all over me, naked. As you tell me about the severity of your injury, I'm not even listening. All I can focus on is the faint vanilla scent that you're wearing. It's intoxicating. You lean your head forward as I gently wipe the snow from your hair. I stare at the nape of your neck, just imaging what it would be like to kiss, and nibble that soft, tantalizing skin. We take the next twenty minutes slowly getting you down the mountain. Our group's cabin is perfectly located at the base of the ski resort, so we don't have far to go.
"Let's get you inside, put a warm drink in your hand, and sit you next to the fireplace. That ought to help soothe you bit." You grimace lightly at the pain, but smile at the thought of getting off your feet, and comfortably relaxing. My gloved fingers fumble at the cabin lock, as the key falls to the ground. I steady you a bit, and then bend down to pick the key up. I can't pick the key up from the concrete with my gloves on, so I take a few seconds to get them off. As I'm pulling at the wet gloves, I can't help but realize my face is inches away from your tight, inviting ass. It takes everything within me not to run my hands across the smooth, ski pants material. It takes even greater strength not to take a big, greedy bite!
As the cabin door swings open, we're met with emptiness, and a note pinned to the entryway: "Everyone is hungry from skiing all day. We headed out for dinner at 5pm. Meet up with us. Get ready to get your drink on!" I stare at the note, reading it over and over. I'm not getting the same message they intended. To me, it says, "We're out of your way for several hours."
"Well, it looks like we can relax without all of those hooligans around!" You say this with a smile, and a quick wink. "Or, I can hobble along if you're willing to act as my crutch all night." I quickly dismissed the idea of venturing out because I wasn't willing to lose the one-on-one time I had been luckily given.
"Nope, we can go out with those jokers any time. You're hurt. Let's keep you from moving around too much. I'll grab a couple of warm drinks. You relax." I carefully lower you to the assortment of pillows that I built up in front of the fireplace, as I slip into the kitchen.
"Ahhhh, you're right. But, I'm not hurt that badly. I could go out if you really wanted to, but this quiet time is certainly worth taking advantage of with everyone out." You snuggle yourself deeply into the pillows, as a smile brightens your beautiful face.
After a few minutes, I reappear next to you with two drinks in hand. "Care for a Baileys Mint Kiss?" You stare at me intensely, and I can tell the word "kiss" is bouncing around your head like a pinball machine. You aren't sure if I'm offering you a drink, or preparing to lock lips with you. I end your brief confusion by putting a warm mug into your hands. "Nothing will warm you up like a little Irish Cream, Peppermint Schnapps, and coffee." I expect a look of thanks in your eyes for the drink, but what I see is disappointment. It seems an actual kiss may have been more of what you were after. I purposely lean across your face, reaching toward your drink, allowing my cologne to fill your senses. From behind my back, I produce a can of whip cream, fancifully topping your drink off with a jet of white, sweet cream.
I innocently ask, "Is there anything else I can do for you?" Without speaking, you sway your head back and forth, as if to say you're all set, but your hesitancy suggests otherwise. Your uncertainty tells me there is a great deal more that I can do for you, but you aren't willing to verbalize anything... yet.
We reminisce together through an hour of drinking, laughing, and light flirtation. After three more "Mint Kisses" together, I make an offer that you can't refuse.
"How's that hamstring treating you? A little stretching and massaging can sometimes give you a little more relief if you're interested. I'm certainly willing to help out. I'm a great masseuse." Without hesitation, you lay forward onto your stomach, facing the warmth of the fire, as an invitation for me to get to work. I move toward you, and settle in at your side. Leaning forward to your ear, I whisper, "I think you're going to like this." You don't answer, but you hum lightly almost as if you're purring.
My hands are warm and my grip is firm. I give you a couple of light squeezes across the back of your neck and upper shoulders, just to loosen you up a bit. I use my thumbs to slowly knead the muscles around your spinal column, slowly moving downward, taking my own sweet time. With each strong stroke, I can feel your body relaxing, giving in to me, relinquishing control. My hands, now at the bottom of your back, securely make their way around the hourglass curve of your waist and ass. I'm looking for signs – any sign – that I'm either welcomed, or turned away for my eager exploration. You pull one of the larger pillows closer into your grip, nestling your face deep within its fire-enhanced warmth. That's a good enough sign for me.