I love to ski. Most of my friends say that I was born to live in the mountains, however I was raised in a flat, Midwestern suburb, and that is where I settled down a few years after college. So my skiing experience was limited to week-long vacations. I could usually get away for one week a year, or two if I was lucky and planned my time well.
My job gives me the flexibility to take a ski trip during off-peak times. But this sometimes means that I can't get any of my friends or relatives to go with me, particularly those with kids in school. I loved skiing so much that I didn't mind going alone for a few days. Besides, nobody I knew could keep up with me on the slopes. Occasionally, I'll find a ski companion for the day. Indeed, I had done just that earlier today.
But this one was different.
As I threaded my belt through the loops of my best jeans, I tried to piece together the incredible events of that day. Did it all really happen?
I tucked in my button-down shirt into my jeans and buckled up. Looking at myself in the hotel room mirror, I was once again glad that I kept in shape. I'm no body builder or UFC fighter, but I look halfway decent in a tight-fitting shirt. And I always make sure my legs and butt are ready to go before a ski trip. Still, I wondered: Am I dreaming? Did I really make a blonde ski bunny suddenly fall in lust over me by falling on top of her?
Did we really just fuck each other stupid in a freaking gondola?
Holy shit, this kind of thing just doesn't happen to me. I had never had wild, semi-outdoor, almost public sex with someone I had known for only six hours! I felt like a hippie on a high; it was really blowing my mind.
I had showered and shined myself up for my date with Sherry. I was excited, not just because of the instant sexual chemistry between us, but also because of everything that had led up to that. Despite the embarrassment of how we met, it was a perfect day of skiing with her, flirting, getting to know each other, sharing our love for the slopes. We seemed to have a connection.
At the same time, however, I felt like I hardly knew her. Did she have a boyfriend? A husband? There was something mysterious about her. Every time our conversation veered toward our lives outside of ski vacations, she steered it back toward the trivial. No personal histories. No heavy information.
I suppose that should have made me happy. A quick, hot fling with a no strings: Isn't that every guy's dream come true?
It also could have made me worried. Was she this loose with everyone she met, and I just picked up a dozen diseases? Did I just get her pregnant? Was I about to meet her angry pimp and pay him $200? No, she was way too classy for that. I just hoped she wasn't one of those obsessive stalker types.
"Will, I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me. I've never done anything like this before."
That was the last thing she said to me before we parted ways earlier that afternoon. I replied simply, "Don't worry," kissing her on her forehead. I could tell she was conflicted.
I didn't know how the night ahead was going to end, but I was looking forward to spending time with Sherry, finding out who she really is, what she does for a living, and what kind of things she is into (other than gondola sex). I was hoping that she was as witty, classy and down-to-earth as she had seemed when we skied together all day. With any luck, we would end up naked in each other's arms again.
Packing a pair of cowboy boots and a leather jacket was the best decision I had made for this trip. I was ready for a night out with Sherry in this charming, Western mountain town. One quick spray of cologne, a deep breath to kill the nerves, and I was gone.
I knocked on the door of Sherry's condo. She had given me the address earlier that afternoon. It was on the outskirts of town, but still not far from my slope-side hotel. I wondered if she owned it as a vacation home, or if she was just renting for the week. Either way, by its looks I figured it to be rather expensive, especially for a ski resort town.
The door opened, and there she was. Smiling. Simply beautiful.
Sherry was not the kind of doll-faced TV model beauty. She was the girl-next-door beautiful, the kind of girl you could take to meet mom and dad, then whisk her away to kiss and run your hands through her silky hair. She was real and down to earth, but with a bit of secrecy to her, and that made her all the more attractive. And if all that wasn't enough, then her big eyes and cute ski-jump nose did it for me. I would have done just about anything for her right then.
"Hello lover," she said. She immediately grabbed me and kissed me deeply, her tongue pressing into mine. I wondered if Sherry's bright red lipstick was coming off on my lips, but I didn't worry about it too much. I figured she would tell me before we went out if I looked like a clown.
We broke off just long enough to check each other out. She wore a long, dark, and thin coat with faux fur lining. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep her warm in the cold, high-altitude night. A pair of thin, dangly earrings completed the ensemble. They complimented her straight, dirty blonde hair that cascaded over her shoulders and ended just above the swell of her breasts.
I slowly went in for a gentler, slower kiss. My lips met hers softly, almost as if we were kissing a cloud. I slowly lapped my lips on hers, lightly adding my tongue after a few seconds. My right hand reached up under her hair and I grazed the back of her neck with my fingertips. I could feel her goose bumps form instantly. Our lips took turn enveloping each other, very gradually pressing harder into each other until I decided that we had hit a peak. I trailed off so slowly that neither of us could tell exactly when our lips were no longer in contact. It was one of the most sensual kisses I had ever given.
"Woah," Sherry said, looking at me. Her round, blue eyes peered deeply into mine, like she was trying to read my soul while allowing me to read hers. She was intoxicating.
We stood there and kissed some more: just quick smacks, but combined they were no less sexy than some of our earlier kisses. My cock started to push against the thick denim of my jeans. I wanted to keep kissing her all night long in this one spot. But I also wanted to leave us both wanting more for later tonight.
"Shall we go eat?" I suggested.
"We shall." She put on a small hat that matched her coat, covered her ears, and made her look even cuter. Then she took hold of the arm I offered her, and we were off.
We walked a few blocks to the Prime Steakhouse where I had made reservations. A light snow started to fall, and the air stayed just under freezing. We didn't mind the temperature. That's one of the effects of a mountain resort: People tolerate—and even sometimes ignore—colder temperatures than they are used to. Nonetheless, we were relieved when we reached the warm entrance of the restaurant. I immediately smelled the gentle burning pine of an active fireplace. I told the maitre' d my name, then helped Sherry off with her coat.
This was like a butterfly coming out of its cocoon, for underneath the long coat was the hottest cocktail dress I had ever seen. It was loose and flirty around the thighs and just long enough to cover her butt. Her shoes matched the pure red color of the dress, finger nail polish, and lipstick. The heels were high enough to accentuate the curves of her well-toned calves and butt. A pair of sheer stockings darkened her skin a half-shade and made me wonder how far up they went past the hem of her dress.
Hugging her hips, the sheer fabric followed her curves inward to her waist, then back out again for her chest. The neckline was more like a breast-line. The low cut put the top of her breasts on proud display. I remember tying to pick out exactly how far beneath the edge of the fabric lay her nipples. Not far, I decided.
The thin spaghetti straps wrapped elegantly around the back of Sherry's neck, which was complimented by a similarly thin gold chain. A single pearl mounted in an elegant gold ellipse dangled from the center of the chain, leading my eyes back down to Sherry's breasts. I tried not to stare at that one spot, taking glances all over her body, but it was hard to look away. Her breasts were perfectly rounded in that dress, and although I had gotten to play with them earlier in the day, I now had to suppress my drooling instinct.
