It's 4:48 AM by the clock on the nightstand. I can hear you stirring behind me in the bed, your arm reaches out instinctually to find my waist and snuggle in. Knowing how hard I find it to sleep without you, I wonder do you do that even when I'm away, and when you find the bed empty, do you clutch the pillows close and pretend it's me?
I'm watching the snow fall outside the window, dusting the sleepy city with a gentle quietness. Soon the busses will start rolling and the streets will clog with impatient commuters off to another day in the office while we stay inside, steaming the windows with our lovemaking. Behind me, you stir and ask what I'm doing standing half naked in front of the window like that. "Do you want to the neighbors to see?" you ask teasingly, knowing how I secretly enjoy the thrill of being seen.
I tell you it is snowing, like that first day we met 15 years ago. "Snow always reminds me of that day." I murmur as you step behind me and wrap your arms around my waist. You press your mouth into my neck, nuzzling me with your sleepy face. You kiss me behind the ear and ask me what I remember. I begin to tell you the story of how you found me, cold and lost in the snow, a 16 year-old runaway, and took me in.
I tell you how I came to love and respect you, like a father–you were twice my age, after all–wanting only to make you proud. I told you how I'd wanted to earn your approval, but that deep down, beyond my love for you as a father-figure, I found you to be the most attractive man alive and what I wanted more than approval sometimes was the thrill of your body very close to mine.
As I talk you unbutton my nightshirt and slip it from my body so you can caress my belly, my arms in the watery morning light. The fabric pools on the floor at my feet, still slightly warm and the air in the chilly air sends a shiver down my spine. I watch your hands moving over my skin, just barely touching the surface avoiding the curve of my small breasts, setting every hair on end. In the pre-dawn light my skin is white-blue, yours a darker blue, my hardening nipples seem almost mauve.
I tell you how, that first night I spent in your house, I wanted to sneak into your bed and curl up beside you. "No one had ever been so kind to me as you were that day. I'd wanted to thank you the only way I knew how; with my body, but somehow I knew you were different from the other men, that you expected something else, something more meaningful than sex-- my trust I guess." You nod, your face still pressed into my neck and murmur something affirmative, your fingers tracing circles closer and closer to my puckered nipples.
"I thought my attraction would be replaced by a familial love over time, that your kindness would make an honest woman of me, so to speak. And I did come to love you like that, but everything was flavored with an unspoken sexual desire ... one I couldn't push away."
Your strong hands spread over the flesh of my small breasts, kneading them till they're warm as your palms. "I felt it too." you mumble, stroking my breasts. "Oh how I wanted to touch you like this back then." You lean against me, I can feel your growing cock against the small of my back, and press one nipple against the cold window glass. I groan a little and my nipple goes hard immediately, little shivers running through me. I love the cold on my skin and the way, once I've pulled away, my nipple burns hot from the slight shock.
You know me so well after all these years and I go weak in your hands. You continue to knead my breasts, warming them again, and then repeat the motion, nudging me forward to press my tit against the pane, to chill my nipples one at a time. Each time I can't help but moan, the sensation of cold then the hot of your palms makes my body quiver. I press back against you to feel the hardness of your cock on my back.
You remind me that I was underage then, the first years we were together, and that no matter what you'd felt for me you knew you couldn't act on it. And so we lived for a year and a half as a legal guardian and his ward; you provided me with all the necessities and had me tutored to catch up with the school I had missed as a run-away, kept me off drugs and away from the violence I'd lived with the years before I met you. I did what was asked of me, grateful for the chance to live life safely again, and to forget about the things that had happened to me when I lived on the streets.
You are working my nipples with your fingertips now, pinching them gently, then rolling them against your hot palms. I hear my breathing quicken as I continue the story, my body melting under your skilled hands. Despite the cold I can feel my face is flushed, my body heating up.
"I don't know when it happened exactly, but somewhere around my 18th birthday I became distinctly aware of what turning 18 could mean for us. We talked about personal saving accounts and the possibility of me going away to college, but my mind was preoccupied with other, more secret thoughts."
You agree, saying you thought of nothing else for a month or more. "I was thinking of this ..." you slide one hand from my breast and cup the front of my pussy as you pull me close and begin to sway a bit, pressing your cock against my back. "I was thinking of it all the time, I couldn't help trying to imagine your sweet pussy."
Your voice pronouncing that word makes me moan and press my ass against your thighs. I lean forward a bit and press my face against the cold glass of the window. I feel you move a bit, bending your knees to slide your erect penis against the flesh of my ass. We rock here like this, the length of your cock pressed into my ass cheeks, one hand still stroking my breast. You whisper "tell me more" as we sway.
