Author's Note:
This story explores consensual wife sharing, voyeuristic tension, and emotional intensity between adults. If that's not for you, feel free to skip. No hard feelings.
If you read it, whether you enjoy it or not, I'd love to hear your thoughts. A rating or a comment means more than you think. It helps me grow as a writer and keeps me going.
(English isn't my first language. Self-edited : all mistakes are mine.)
Chapter 1
We were three days into our vacation, staying in a small cabin about an hour north of Talkeetna. Just the two of us, no guide, just snow and the old Yamaha the guy at the gas station had lent us for cheap. The plan was to ride out past the tree line, maybe get a look at the ridge before the weather turned. I drove. Emily sat behind me, arms tight around my waist, chin resting on my shoulder. I could feel her breathing through the layers, slow, steady. We'd been together ten years. Married for seven. She liked the silence out here, and I liked how she held on when the trail opened up. We'd left the cabin an hour ago. Cold, but clear. Good enough for a ride.
The trail narrowed as we climbed, trees crowding in, their limbs heavy with last week's snow. The sled groaned a little on the incline, but the engine held. I could feel Emily shift behind me, settling her weight as we leaned into a curve. The cold bit harder up here, sharper, thinner, and the sun, though it was still out, had that dull, tired color. At one point she laid her head lightly against my back, just for a second. Not to rest, not exactly. Just there. And I felt it. More than I thought I would. Up ahead, past a stand of spruce, I caught a glimpse of open space, flat and white. A frozen lake, maybe. I didn't think much of it at the time.
We came out of the trees and the world opened up. A wide, flat stretch of white, ringed with spruce and alder. A frozen lake, you could tell by the way the land fell back and the trees stopped suddenly along the shore. Across the surface, maybe five hundred yards out, a cabin stood half-sunk in the snow. Big windows. A sharp roof. Smoke curling from a metal chimney. Someone was there. I let off the throttle. The engine coughed once and died. I hit the starter. Nothing. Tried again. Still nothing.
We ditched the sled where it stopped and started walking. The lake looked solid, no cracks, no dark patches, just a smooth crust of snow over pale ice. I tested the first few steps, slow, listening. Nothing shifted. Emily followed close behind. The cold had gone sharper, cutting through the seams of my jacket. We were maybe halfway across when she slipped. I heard the crack before I saw it. Then the ice gave under her with a sudden, awful sound, like the earth tearing open, and she was gone.
I dropped to my knees and crawled toward the hole. The ice groaned but held. Emily's hands were clawing at the edge, her face pale and soaked, mouth open but no sound coming out. I grabbed her wrists and pulled. She didn't help much, too cold already, maybe in shock. I dug in with my boots, leaned back, and hauled with everything I had. She came up slow, scraping against the edge, water pouring from her coat. I slipped as she cleared the hole, and something twisted hard in my ankle. I knew right away. I couldn't carry her. Not like this.
I stripped off my jacket and wrapped it around her, pulled up the hood, tucked in her hands. Her eyes were open but not focused. Lips blue. Skin white. I told her I'd be right back, that I had to get help. I don't know if she heard. My ankle was already swelling, but I stood and started limping toward the cabin. The wind had picked up. I kept my eyes on the smoke, on that dark roof against the trees. It felt farther than it had a minute ago. I counted steps. I didn't look back.
The cabin was bigger up close. Newer than I expected. I banged on the door with my fist, once, twice. A pause. Then it opened. He stood there, tall, broad, dark beard, steady eyes. I told him: my wife fell through the ice, I couldn't carry her, my ankle was bad. She was still out there. He didn't speak. Just grabbed a thick coat, a wool blanket.
"I can't take the sled," he said. "That lake's not frozen right. We'll walk."
Then he came to me, slipped an arm under mine without asking, and took some of my weight. I nodded. We moved fast, or fast as I could, across the snow, toward the place I left her.
She lay curled in on herself, jacket soaked through, lips pale as bone. Caleb dropped beside her without a word. Unwrapped the blanket. Pulled off her gloves, her hat. I watched his hands, careful, sure. He touched her like someone who knew exactly what he was doing. Then he slid his arms under her and lifted her clean off the ice. She didn't resist. Just sagged into him. He looked at me once, just a flick of his eyes, then turned toward the cabin and started walking. I followed. Slower. Limping. Watching her disappear in his arms.
Chapter 2
I stepped into the cabin and was hit by the heat. It wrapped around me like a thick blanket, almost dizzying after the cold. The place was brighter than I expected. Wide plank floors, a clean stone hearth, a big bed set low under a window, heavy with blankets. Not a trapper's shack. Modern. Solid. Lived in.
Emily was on the bed, half-turned on her side. Her jacket was soaked through. A man was kneeling beside her, working at the zipper. Big shoulders, calm hands. He looked up briefly when I entered.
"I'm Caleb," he said.
"Dan," I replied.
"She's hypothermic. I need to get these off or she's going to drop fast."
He turned back to the zipper, tugged gently. "Can you help me? It'll go quicker with two of us."
I set my bag down and moved closer to the bed. My hands were still stiff from the cold, but I knelt beside him. Emily didn't move. Her eyes were half-closed, lips pale. Caleb lifted her by the shoulders just enough so I could slide the jacket down her back. It came off in a wet, heavy fold. We worked quietly, without looking at each other. One sleeve, then the other. He pulled off her gloves, set them aside, then reached for the zipper of her fleece.
"Get her boots," he said.
I crouched near her feet and worked the laces loose. The boots were soaked, stiff with ice around the soles. I pulled them off one by one, then her socks, heavy and dripping. Her feet were white, almost translucent. Caleb had already opened her fleece and was easing it off her arms. Underneath, she wore just a thin tank top, soaked straight through. Her skin was cold to the touch.
"We need to get her warm now," he said. "She's past the edge."
"Everything wet needs to come off," Caleb said. "It's holding the cold against her."
He lifted her gently, one arm behind her back, the other supporting her head. Her skin looked unreal in the firelight, almost waxy in places, flushed in others. I pulled up her shirt slowly, the fabric clinging to her chest, peeling away with that faint, sticky sound wet clothes make. Her bra was plastered to her, almost translucent. I saw the curve of her nipples through the thin lace before I looked away.
Caleb didn't pause. He reached around her, found the clasp, opened it without a word. The straps fell from her shoulders and the fabric sagged. Her breasts shifted slightly, loose, vulnerable. I swallowed. My hands were still there, near her ribs. I didn't know what to do with them.
"This too," he said, quiet but certain. "She needs heat. Not hesitation."
Caleb stood up and stripped off his shirt, then started working on his belt. His movements were unhurried, efficient. He didn't look at me.
"You'll need to undress too," he said. "Skin to skin is the fastest."
He dropped his pants, then stepped out of them. He kept his underwear on. Simple black boxer briefs, stretched tight across his hips. His body was hard, lean, not an ounce of softness anywhere. Broad chest, thick arms, abs like carved wood. And under the fabric, I couldn't not see it, the shape of his cock, heavy, resting sideways, outlined through the cotton. I looked away too quickly. It didn't help.
My wife. Half-naked, pale, silent. In a few seconds, she'd be wrapped in this man's body. Pressed against him. Held by him.
I started pulling off my clothes. Fast. I didn't know what else to do.
I climbed onto the bed, careful not to put weight on my ankle. Caleb was already behind her, one arm under her neck, the other draped across her waist. His chest pressed against her back. He looked at me once, then shifted slightly to make room.
I slid in from the front, my body aligning with hers. Her skin was ice. Her breasts, soft and cold, flattened against my chest. I could feel the rough edge of her breath, shallow and uneven. Between us, there was no space. Behind her, I could sense Caleb's heat radiating forward, through her, into me.
Then he pulled the blanket over us. Thick, heavy, it fell across my shoulder and sealed us in. The firelight dimmed. It was close now. Dense. Her body between ours, silent. My heart was hammering.
I don't remember closing my eyes. Just the weight of the blanket, the warmth creeping in, the slow dulling of pain. My body stopped shivering. Her skin, still cold, started to feel softer. Caleb didn't move. His breathing was deep, slow. The only sound in the room.
I kept my forehead against hers. My arm rested along her side, not holding her, just there. At some point, the lines blurred. The silence thickened. I drifted.
Chapter 3
It was the sound that woke me. A soft moan, broken by breath. Then another, closer. Her breath was faster now, irregular. I felt it on my lips before I opened my eyes.
She was pressed against me, skin to skin. Her mouth found mine as if it had been waiting. She kissed me slowly, but with weight. Wet, warm, low sounds rising from her chest.
