Snowed In

There is another storm headed our way and bringing with it an estimated thirty-six inches of new snow. It is expected the hit this area by five o'clock tonight. Stay inside and keep warm. For those of you traveling, if you can't make it to your destination by five, please find a hotel or at least have traction--

Lana Prescott nosed her Chevy Silverado into the slanted parking slot and shut off the heavy engine, opening the door and cutting off the severe weather warning that came across her radio. She had heard the same warning just minutes ago and decided that she needed to quickly head into town to pick up a few items at the local country store, her pantry was stocked and if she got snowed in again this year she didn't want to run out of coffee. Even though her cabin had electricity thanks to her trusty heavy duty generator, there was always that chance of it dying on her and she didn't have enough oil for her lanterns, either. She had lived in southern Montana her entire life so she was used to the harsh winters but this was another winter alone without her husband and he had always taken care of those things, she just had to make sure that they had three hot meals a day. She had kept herself occupied during the day ever since his death, it was the nights that were lonely and even though she could have her choice of any able bodied man she wanted; she just didn't want any of the ranchers around town. She had thought about moving, but she stayed, she loved her teaching job and she just couldn't leave all of her students behind.

She pulled up the faux fur trimmed hood of her raspberry colored parka, tugging her gloves on a little tighter before she grabbed her purse, sliding out of the high-standing truck. She shut the door just as a cold gust of wind hit her from behind and she felt her nipples instantly tighten under her heavy layer of clothing. She trudged through the heavily packed snow in her sheepskin lined boots, stepping up on the salted sidewalk, smiling at another woman that walked by her on the sidewalk, bundled up in her heavy winter clothing, just her red face visible under her own faux fur lined hood. She stomped the snow from her boots on the mat just outside the door of the store before pushing open the heavy carved wood door. She pushed her hood from her head and grabbed a hand basket from the holder and started down the first aisle.

She ignored the stare from the man in his late fifties behind the checkout counter, he had been unsuccessfully chasing after her ever since he heard that her husband had passed away, not that he had tried chasing after her while her husband was still alive, along with every other man in town. She was thirty, tall and curvaceous, standing 5'9" and weighing 150 pounds with natural 34Cs that she usually kept hidden behind bulky sweaters in the winter and blouses in the summer, making her turn the head of every man in town when she walked by whether or not they were with their wives. Her mixed heritage, Blackfoot Indian and Northern European, had yielded her long black hair, deep green eyes, high cheekbones, and pale skin, a rare combination in this part of the state that had every man staring at her. She ignored all of them, she was still mourning her husband, and as she placed three bottles of oil in her basket, she ignored the stare of the man on the other side of the store and the one further down the aisle that pretended to read the back of a jar of spaghetti sauce. She grabbed a large can of coffee; some matches from the next aisle, several cans of soup and some peanut butter before she grabbed three paperback books that were known for their explicit content that always had her panties soaking and her longing for her husband. She sat her basket down on the counter and waited for the man to ring her up, waited for the inappropriate comments that were to come along with her purchases.

The old man behind the counter smiled at her even though his eyes were lingering on her chest rather than on her face. He hated the winter months, all the women wore bulky coats to hide their figures and Lana had the most impressive figure of all the women in town. "You're looking fine as always, Mrs. Prescott. Do you need someone to keep you warm in that cold cabin of yours?" he asked as he started ringing up her items.

She looked far from fine. Her bulky coat hid her figure, her flannel lined jeans were far from flattering and her clunky boots did not even evoke the thoughts of fucking. "No, I do not," Lana answered, tight lipped. Even though the man had come knocking on her door one night with the excuse to make sure she was doing okay when a storm knocked out the power, he quickly backed off when he came nose to business end with her .308 Winchester hunting rifle. She knew how to use the rifle, her husband made sure of that and also that every man in town knew it, too. If she could see anything in the crosshairs, it was dead. So, to keep from going to the hospital with a bullet wound, the men just ogled and made passes at her whenever she was in town.

"Why read these books, Lana, when I can do to you things that can't even be printed on these pages," he said as he put her purchases in a paper bag, his eyes focused on the curve of her breasts hidden under the bulky coat.

"Now, Mr. Winters, what if your wife heard you talking to me like that? She'd hit you up the side of your head with her dildo since you can't even get your dick hard enough to do anything with it," Lana said with a snide smile.

The man that had been reading the spaghetti sauce jar was now standing behind her, laughing.

Mr. Winters face turned beet red and he quickly stopped his lewd comments. "That'll be twenty-eight fifty-two, Mrs. Prescott."

Lana handed him two twenties. That shut the old man up. She had heard some of the ladies in town talking at the local diner about their husband's skills or lack thereof in the bedroom, how some of them had to resort to other methods when their spouses couldn't perform their husbandly duties, exchanging the addresses of the on-line sites that had the largest selections of dildos and vibrators. And Mrs. Winters was one of them. "Thank you. And you have Merry Christmas, Mr. Winters."

She gathered up her purchases and pulled up her hood, heading back outside. The storm was approaching faster than they predicted, huge white flakes were starting to swirl down around her and stick to her coat and cling to her face. She sat her bag on the seat and climbed up in the still-warm cab, starting up her truck and backing out of the slot. She turned on the wipers to sweep away the thick flakes as they clung to the glass, her visibility becoming less and less as the storm raged on. She drove the ten miles to her cabin as fast as she dared, pushed a button on the dash that turned on the four-wheel drive, and turned up her steep driveway that took her to the top of the mountain, the snow crunching under the heavy weight of the truck. Luckily the snow was compacted enough over the rocky driveway, the tires gaining and keeping traction as she climbed the hill to the three-room log cabin with attached carport. She nosed the truck under the protected cover made out of sturdy logs and shut off the engine. She grabbed her bags and headed inside her cabin, slamming the door behind her to keep the cold wind at bay.

The roaring fire she had built in the fireplace was still going strong, keeping the spacious main room toasty warm and she unzipped her parka, hanging it up on the hook beside the door. She unlaced and toed off her boots, padding across the knotty pine wood floor in fuzzy pink socks to the tiny kitchen, setting her bags down on the counter. She put everything away, made a pot of coffee and opened up a can of soup, heating it up on the stove. She sat down at the small table next to the window, sipping her tomato soup out of an oversized mug, staring out through the inch thick paned glass at the snowy mountainside and the huge flakes that swirled down even faster, sticking to the cold glass. The sky was starting to turn gray as the storm quickly approached blizzard conditions and she was glad she had made it home in time, she hated to be stuck outside in weather like this even if it was just a quick trip to the store.

She let out a long breath as she stared at the far corner where her Christmas tree usually sat, now just an oversized log chair sat there. She hadn't bothered putting up a tree; it only brought up painful memories. It sucked to have your husband die on what was supposed to be the happiest day of the year. Now she just hated the holiday and everything that went along with it. She didn't know how she was going to make it thought the long winter break, but then that was why she had her erotic books and her dildo. She went over to the open fireplace and put on two more logs, replacing the screen in front of the crackling fire. On cold nights like this she liked to sleep on the couch in front of the fire instead of in the bedroom, and even more so now that her husband was gone.

After finishing her soup, Lana went into the bedroom, pulling her bulky cable knit sweater over her head as she went, tossing it down on the foot of her bed, her long sleeved silk undershirt quickly following. She unfastened her jeans and wiggled the flannel lined denim down over the curves of her hips and rounded ass. She reached behind her back and unhooked the clasp on her red push-up bra, pulling it from her shoulders and watching in the mirror over her dresser as the large globes of her breasts were finally free, appreciating their size and shape. They were still as perky as they had been when she was eighteen.

The large orbs were round and firm and curved perfectly up from her ribcage. Her coral colored areolas were as big as silver dollars and puckered from the cool air in the bedroom and her spice drop nipples were extremely hard and jutting out a half inch from the middle of her pale breasts. She turned to the side, admiring her breasts, they had always been her best asset besides her ass, loving the way the heavy globes turned up without sagging and her hard nipples jutted straight out from the peaks like two tiny cocks. She reached up and cupped her breasts in her hands, hefting them up from her chest and tugging and pinching on her nipples till they stood out even further from her breasts and ached to be sucked. It had been way too long since her nipples had felt a man's mouth, too long since her pussy had been filled with a man's cock.

She let go of them and slid her hands down her torso, over her smooth belly to the curve of her hips, hooking her fingers under the band that encircled her hips, slowly easing her red hip hugging panties down the length of her legs, exposing her smooth vulva to the chill of the room. She looked at her naked body in the mirror, seeing exactly why every man wanted her, why her husband made sure she was sexually satisfied so she wouldn't have a reason to stray. He had wanted her all to his self and she didn't blame him. She had curves but she didn't have the extra weight that went along with them like all the other women in town, long toned legs that could hold on tight even when the sex got rough, large breasts with nipples that begged to be plucked and pulled as they bounced and swayed especially while she was bouncing up and down on a swollen cock with her tight, slick pussy.

She reached down and touched her freshly shaved vulva, her husband liked it smooth and she just continued to keep it that way in hopes--in hopes that he would come back from the dead and fuck her because no man around here was ever going to do that. She slid her fingers along the slick lips of her labia, parting herself to push her finger into her damp cunt, wishing that it could be filled with a rock-hard, throbbing cock again and not the lifeless rubber dildo she had to use to satisfy her urges. She hadn't had a cock in so long; she had to wonder if she even remembered what a real one looked like. Oh, well. It was going to be another long, cold winter. "Why did you have to leave me, Brian? I miss you so much."

She felt the chill of the room prickle her skin and she grabbed her red flannel pajamas from the foot of the bed and pulled them on, wrapping her plush white robe around her body and belting it tightly, instantly feeling the warmth. She pulled her hair back from her face and secured it in a loose ponytail at her nape. She went over to the bed, reached under the flannel encased pillow where her husband use to rest his head and wrapped her fingers around the inch thick warm rubber six-inch long dildo her husband had left on her pillow when he got called out for an emergency on Christmas Eve, the card attached telling her to scream his name when she came. She hugged the last thing her husband had given her to her chest and padded out into the main room in her stocking feet and curled up on the end of the pine log couch, covering up with the heavy patchwork quilt. She picked up her erotic story book, slipped the dildo under the blanket and turned to page one.

She was only on the fifth page when she heard a heavy thud against her front door.

+ + + + + + + + + +

There is another storm headed our way and bringing with it an estimated thirty-six inches of new snow. It is expected the hit this area by five o'clock tonight. Stay inside and keep warm. For those of you traveling, if you can't make it to your destination by five, please find a hotel or at least have traction devices--

"No shit, dick face," Duke McCabe said as he reached over, shutting off the damn radio. There was already three feet of snow accumulated on the ground with a two foot high bank of dirty, gravely snow along the edge of the road and it had been snowing ever since he crossed the Idaho/Montana border, adding several more inches of the white shit. And by the looks of things, there was no end in sight. Mother Nature was a bitch. All he wanted to do was get home to Butte, Montana by Christmas to surprise his friends and family and it looked like he wasn't even going to be able to make it to Dillon in this storm. The flakes were getting bigger and bigger, swirling down around him at an increasing rate of speed as he tried to maneuver the car down what he hoped was the road, the headlights bouncing off what was visible of the reflectors that marked the side of the road and the cement barricade that divided the interstate. He should have just stayed the hell home where the sun was shining and bikini clad women were lying on the beach tempting his rigorous military training with their taut, oiled bodies glistening in the sun.

He had enlisted in the Navy when he was eighteen, was selected for SEAL training when he was twenty and had been doing black-op missions ever since. The Navy had never issued him a wife to go along with his dog tags and he figured it was best if he just stayed single, and now that he was pushing thirty, he was beginning to wonder if that had been a wise decision on his part. He had passed on liberty several times and finally after being away for eleven years, he decided it was time to finally go home. His flight out of San Diego had been grounded in Pocatello due to the severe winter storm and he had to get a rental to drive the rest of the way, despite what the woman behind the Avis desk was saying about the storm. To make matters worse, they didn't have an SUV or sedan available that could accommodate his 6'5" 245 pound frame and she told him it would be best if he just got a hotel for the night.

To keep from arguing with the lady, Duke just let her have it. "Now listen here lady. I have navigated through sandstorms, been dropped into freezing oceans, and left to die in the jungles of South America, I think I can handle driving in a fuckin' snowstorm. I have to get home before Christmas. Now just give me the damn car and I'll be out of your hair."

Now he regretted getting that hotel room for the night. He had been cramped inside the compact car for the past eight hours; the only time he got to stretch his legs was when he stopped for gas. The interstate was turning into an isolated stretch of snow covered asphalt without another car in sight. The headlights of the car barely illuminated the green road signs along the side of the road, marking the next exit and letting him know where the hell he was at. The storm was getting worse and if he didn't get off the road and to shelter soon, he was going to be stranded with only a half a tank of gas and what was left of his cup of coffee and cold hamburger.

Duke rolled the car to a stop at the exit and shut off the sputtering engine. The car couldn't handle the heavy snowfall; it was starting to reach the bumper and the engine groaned every time he pushed down on the accelerator to move through the snow. He was walking from here. He turned in his seat and reached for his seabag he had thrown on the backseat, wiggling the cylindrical canvas bag between the bucket seats. The extra weight of the bag would only slow him down, so he had to take only what he could wear and pack in his pockets. He did have on his military issued cold weather gear that consisted of a mock turtleneck and leggings to keep his body at core temperature under his civilian clothes and he pulled on a heavy cable knit sweater over his thick chamois shirt just to be on the safe side. He dug his cold weather hood out of his bag and pulled it on, looking at himself in the rearview mirror. He looked like he was about to rob a bank, only his eyes and the bridge of his nose was visible. He pulled on his gloves, grabbed his parka from the seat and opened the door of the car, feeling a strong gust of cold air whip in around him. He pulled on his jacket and zipped it up, pulling up the insulated hood. If he didn't die in this weather he was sure to get demoted to lieutenant junior grade for stupidity.

He trudged through the heavily packed snow for what felt like hours, the thick flakes swirling down around him faster and faster, making it impossible to see two feet in front of him. He judged the width of the road by the reflector poles that jutted up out of the snow bank, their blue tops little reflections of hope that he was on the right path. But the further he walked, the deeper the snow got and soon the reflectors were completely covered and he was navigating by instincts alone. There were no other vehicles in site; he was the only idiot out in the storm. The temperature was starting to drop, he could feel it against his face even despite the warmth of his cold weather gear, and he could feel his testicles start to draw up into his body for warmth and protection, leaving his cock to suffer the freezing temperature alone. He had survived worse than this fucking snowstorm and when he did he owed it to his cock to warm up in the hottest, tightest pussy he could find, just like he did after every life-threatening mission he strategized to remind himself he was a human, not a highly trained government killing machine. But with all this damn snow, the only pussy he was going to find was a starving mountain lion.

Duke didn't know how long he had been walking but he could feel the cold weather start to take a toll on him despite his vigorous military training and he knew he needed to find shelter before his body temperature dropped any lower and hypothermia set in. He saw what resembled the shape of a mailbox under the heavy snowfall and he reached out, knocking off the foot of snow that had accumulated on the top of it just to make sure. Thank God it was a mailbox, shelter was close. The snow was disorienting and he stopped to look around in the white shit, trying to find which side of the road the box belong to and then he saw the clearing in the trees and he trudged across the road and up what he hoped was the driveway, staying close to the line of trees that lead the way. The terrain was getting harder to climb, the legs of his jeans were soaking wet and starting to freeze making his legs feel even heavier and the further he walked the more he had to wonder if he was on the wrong side of the mountain. And then he saw it.