Stella And The Winter Sylph

Stella got home a lot later than she wanted. That meant that dinner was going to be pizza from the freezer, paired with a beer. Before she had even turned the key in the front door, she could hear both of her cats mewling on the other side of it. Being over two hours past dinner time, they were convinced that they were going to starve to death at any moment.

"Yes, yes. I know. I'm very late. I'm sooo sorry!" Stella baby-talked to them, as she shuffled out of her shoes.

They rubbed themselves on her legs as she took off her bag, her coat and her scarf, meowing desperately the whole time. If only they could comprehend the number of hours of work that she put in, just so they could have run of her home and the freshest mail-order food available; maybe then, they would cut her some slack. In the kitchen, she fed the cats, then turned on the oven to feed herself. A frozen pizza, the staple of the overworked nurse, would do. She twisted open a bottle of Japanese beer and took a long, deliciously cold swig. Despite the winter cold outside, she had had no time to cool down.

A twelve-hour day of work, became a one hour, icy commute, which led to feeding frantic felines-- before she had a moment to herself. So, she found it completely acceptable to remove her scrubs right there in the kitchen. In her black bra and panties, her body still sticky from the long, arduous day at the hospital, she leaned on the counter, sipped her beer and watched the cats go to town on their food, while the oven preheated. She ate the pizza in the kitchen, standing in her underwear, the cats lying, fat and happy, on the tile, cleaning their crumby little faces as she stuffed hers. Stella knew how it would work if she sat down, relaxed, and actually savored her dinner. The momentum of the day would come to a crashing halt, and the exhaustion would hit her like a tractor trailer loaded with cinder blocks.

If she could stay on her feet, she could squeeze just a little me time out of the day before she was right back in her scrubs, and her scarf and hustling the halls of Spirit Mountain Hospital, chasing code after code. Rinse and repeat. She needed a little me time-- she had earned it. No one could stop her from having another beer and another piece of pizza. And though she was in cool-down mode, it was as if all the stress, the overtime, and the running around-- had made her so hot, she just could not cool off. The cold tiles felt good on her bare feet as she strode to the sliding glass door that looked out over the big, snowy field behind the townhouse.

It didn't matter that she was showing more than a little skin, as there was no one for miles in that direction. It had only just been bought up and slated for construction. And since her townhouse was on the corner of the little block, and she was the first to move into the new pop-up neighborhood, Stella had an abundance of privacy. At first, it had creeped her out, knowing that she was the only person within a couple of square miles. But Spirit Mountain was a quiet town and not exactly bustling at night. So, she had the snowy, dark expanse of the soon-to-be condo community. The other nurses had reacted like startled hens when she had told them about her living situation.

Coming home late to a dark house in the middle of nowhere?

What do you mean most of the streetlights aren't even put in yet?

How can you do that?

A woman like you, all on your own? You are going to get murdered! These were some of the things her coworkers liked to parrot ad nauseam. She had brushed it off with a smile, and most of them had commended her on her bravery; though, she knew they really thought she was nuts. What she didn't tell them was that she sort of liked it. She had always been a bit of a thrill seeker. But it wasn't roller coasters, or partying, or bungee jumping; Stella liked the fear of the unknown--the spookier, the better.

That, and sex.

Her first boyfriend had broken things off when all she wanted to do was fool around in graveyards and haunted houses. Back then, her goth princess persona would have given her away to her coworkers. But the makeup, spikes, and black leather had gotten to be too much work. There was no time to fly her freak flag as a nurse. At least she had kept her underwear game-- black, lacy, and racy. Her goth teenage-self would, at least, approve of that. So, when she came home to the dark, and gazed out into the cold, blowing abyss, there was a delicious excitement. The bitter wind howled into the open door and swept across her sweat-glistened skin.

Anywhere that wasn't covered by black lace instantly erupted in prickly goose flesh. Stella shivered and laughed at the little chill, part cold, part fear of that never-ending black beyond her home. Following the call of the void, she stepped out onto the back step, gripping the neck of her beer bottle, and turned her body slowly in the gentle but frigid wind. The concrete was slick with ice and she spun on her heels, smiling, knowing fair-well how she would appear to an outside observer. Somehow, that idea made it better. The thought of someone watching her from the dark made her... horny. Stella couldn't help but laugh at herself, spinning in the cold in barely there underwear in the dark, smiling, getting worked up.

"I am really a freak." She laughed out into the open night.

"What is it that makes you freakish?" came the voice of the dark.

Like the winter wind itself had spoken, Stella heard the question come from behind her. Just beyond the threshold of the light that spilled out of her back door onto the snow. She turned and faced the black. There was nothing there but the endless void and the drifting clouds of crystalline snow blowing across the field. But, there was something there. She could feel it. She could feel its gaze. And as her eyes adjusted, and the adrenaline heightened her senses, she could see the bright lights from inside her kitchen reflecting in the mirror, like eyes of... something.

"Who's there!" she demanded, fighting the desire to retreat into the house and slam shut the door. The beer bottle became a glass cudgel in her hand. The lurker in the dark did not answer her question, though it repeated its first.

"What is it that makes you freakish?" Beckoned the voice on the edge of the light. P Despite the flight-or-fight instinct that was first to the scene, that familiar fear, or the lust for fear, was there, as well. It was as if she could feel that there was no malintent.

"I like the dark," she answered. The cold was biting into her and she was trembling, though she stood tall and still gripped her beer bottle. She would not show that she was afraid.

"It is not wrong to like the dark. Some worship the dark. Many good things happen in the dark. What you are doing in the dark, for one thing, is very good," the voice said.

Stella's goosebumps redoubled at the sound of the voice. It was not human, that much was sure, but it was masculine in a way. It was as if something was shaping the wind itself to form speech. A slithering, dusky whisper hissing syllables that made every one of the fine hairs on her body stand erect.

"What are you doing? Why are you watching me? And who the hell are you?" she shouted, her voice echoing against the unseen trees that were far across the snowfield. "I was traveling in the dark and I thought this place was devoid of people. I was simply on my way to another place. I saw you dancing in the light that appeared and I... could not help myself," the voice answered. Then, "You are very beautiful."

"Step into the light," Stella ordered. "Slowly," she added. Her work had given her a way with commanding people. It was time to see if it worked on 'not-people'.

"I mean you no harm. I was only drawn to you like a moth to a flame's dance. Let me cause you no more fear than I have. I am sorry."

"Into the light. Now," she ordered, standing straight and smacking the beer bottle across her hand as if it were a riding crop.

"As you wish," said the voice.

And on the edge of the darkness, the shadows seemed to shift and grow. It was as if the darkness was only a black sheet and a body was pressed against it, moving into the light that spilled out from her open back door. The cold had taken over her body, and the only thing keeping her teeth from chattering, was the desire to see what crept in the night coming into view. The dark grew legs and stepped into the light. It was closer than she had thought. Close enough that if it darted forward out of the shadows, it would have been on her in a flash. If it meant her harm, she stood there, nearly naked, too cold to swing her beer bottle if she had tried. But the figure did as she demanded and strode towards her slowly, one deliberate step at a time. It was human enough, though it seemed to float, as it walked across the top of the snow instead of sinking into it.

The being moved silently. For a moment, Stella blinked, scrunching her face to force her mind to understand what she was seeing. The voice was masculine, and the body was assuredly masculine, as well. He was wearing less than her as he stepped into the light. Tall and lean, he wore only what looked like a short tennis skirt. Something she had only seen men wear in paintings of ancient times. And his body was made to match, for he was lean and strong, pale as the snow, so that he looked like a marble statue brought to life. The only thing that denied his status as simply human, besides the snow-top footwork, was that his fine face, smooth and exotic, looked at her with eyes without color. They were white and etheric, just like the rest of him. His long hair was wound into complex braids that fell down to his shoulders, unbothered by the gusting winter air. He looked at her seriously; the night casting his sharp, angular features in stark contrast with his ghostly flesh.

"What... are you?" she asked, unable to keep her teeth from chattering any longer.

"You are cold then?" he asked, sincere worry coloring his words and the look on his face. "I mistook you for an Ethereal for your actions. You danced in the cold like an Ice Nymph-- unbothered and reveling in the pleasures of winter," he said, and took a step closer, lifting his hand as if he were going to touch her, but he stopped just a hand's-breadth away.

"You're human," he smiled, and spoke more to himself than her.

She reached out, her entire body shivering, and grabbed his still outstretched hand. The numbness of the cold burned away like she had dunked it in a steaming bath. She guided the warm hand to the flatness of her belly, where it seemed he wanted to touch. Willingly guided, the being took another step and placed the palm of his hand on her stomach. Heat instantly flooded into her body from him. It exploded from her navel and into her extremities. Her mind, her heart, every inch of flesh, felt as if she had been dropped into warm honey. Stella pressed his hand to her stomach, harder, and a small involuntary moan of pleasure escaped her lips. It was like taking a big swallow of stiff scotch; the heat falling into her filling her with something wonderful.

"You thought I was a nymph? Like a sexy little fairy of the woods?"

"I could not believe my eyes," he said. "I thought you were a forest spirit that had stolen the undergarments of a human. I am sorry that I stole closer and watched you dance--it was just so unexpected and enticing," the pale man said, earnest in wonder and apology.

"Do I still--entice you?" she asked, and slid his hand just an inch lower. Another wave of heat erupted through her as if pumping through his skin and straight into her blood. The look on his face was like the one a young man would make, inexperienced in sex and thrown off by an older, ready, and thirsty woman. It made her laugh to see the lurker in the dark flustered. He nodded, his eyes transfixed on her body.

"Would you like to come in for... for... fuck it. What can I offer you besides sex?" She she asked, pulsing with his heat. She could feel it in her pussy, a rhythmic, hot throbbing that grew by the second.

"I should not enter your home. It is forbidden," he said, casting his gaze to the snow. "But," he continued, drawing their bodies closer until her black lace touched the front of his Olympian skirt, "if thou art close to me, you shall not feel harm from the elements. Here we are safe, for there is no other soul to speak of in the night."

And he was right, Stella noticed. He had pulled her down off her small concrete patio into the ankle-deep snow. It felt like she was standing in body-temperature foam atop a heated floor. And with their bodies pressed together, it was almost as if they were inside a just-right sauna-- not too hot to work up a little sweat. It was as if they were in a bubble of heat, though the crunchy snow remained. He was taller than she had thought, having been pulled off the patio; her forehead at his chin, her breasts pressing into the smooth, muscular white flesh of his lower chest. He pressed into her and she guided his hand again down, and slid it beneath the black silky lace.

His fingers found where she was guiding them without hesitation, and he slipped his long middle finger inside her, nearly frictionless and wet. It felt as good as any finger, but with the added pulsation of his strange inner heat. It added to her throbbing so that her whole body felt erect and full of blood, pulsing with desire. She brought his chin down and kissed him, looking into his featureless white eyes and she could tell, despite their void appearance, that he was staring deeply into her. The smell of his breath and his skin were unearthly, like hot charcoal and pine resin, like the wind of every season and the electricity in the air before a massive storm.

Her tongue sought his, as thrumming fingers explored, rubbed, and penetrated her. And then she could wait no more. On the edge of exploding on his fingers, she dropped to her knees, protected from the savage cold by strange magic. His face, so exotic, a face that could only be ancient, only gracing the earthly realm in fantasy and art, looked down at her, with only awe in his white eyes. She pulled on his skirt and he made no move to stop her, only watching; his heartbeat tactile through his skin, as waves of amazing heat.

Stella let out a sigh of relief, as she pulled down his strange garment. For a moment, she had thought that, perhaps, this strange being would have strange genitalia, or worst-case-scenario, none at all. But, he certainly did. And it was as she had hoped it would be. Human but for its marble paleness; thick, circumcised and twitching as it swelled, swelling quickly as she brought her lips to it. His fingers were hot, but as she slipped the head of his marble cock into her mouth, it was as much heat as her human body could handle. The winter air could still penetrate the heat aura, but she only felt it as a pleasurable sensation, a delicious cold that lashed and danced over her hot, naked flesh.

She let her bra fall to the snow and moaned with her mouth full, as the stiff wind traced over her hard, hot nipples. His cock grew as she sucked, stroking it with her hand as it swelled and sent a crazed, throbbing heat into her mouth that cascaded in toe-curling waves of sensation. She had heard of cumming from giving head, of a full-body orgasm, from the pleasuring of a cock with one's mouth and throat. From mouth to throat, to her tits, flowing down through her belly, the meat of her ass, all the way to her toes, she felt on the edge of orgasm. She moaned, humming, as she bobbed her head back and forth. Strong hands held her gently on either side, as he added his own small strokes, pushing, fucking her mouth. The Pale Man was a quiet lover, not moaning but breathing fully, excited gasps that were like the wind itself, the sounds of his pleasure swirling around her in the miraculous heat and cold intertwined.

Stella was set on sucking that cock until she could no more, but suddenly, he was pulling it out of her mouth, letting a long, gooey string of saliva snake from the back of her throat where it turned to ice before it hit the ground, shattering on the hot flesh of Stella's legs. Falling to his knees, his marble lips crashed again into hers, and he drove his searing tongue deeply into her mouth as he moved her to the ground, laying her down, as if she were a paper doll. His strength was beyond measure, and he made no measure of struggle to help her to her back atop the snow. With one hand, he cradled her, while the other removed her black thong. Phantasmagorical, feverish-hot hands moved down the lengths of her legs, and they squeezed hungrily, then finding her breasts and her nipples all, as he moved above her.

"I must taste you," he breathed, moving between her legs with purpose.

She nodded and threw her head back, feeling not the crunchy snow beneath her, but the softest down quilt and pillows. The stars overhead in the crystal-clear winter sky sparkled and shone like magnesium flares, and her mouth gaped; her eyes wide, taking them in, as his tongue found her. He used his entire mouth, lips kissing and sucking, tongue moving as if he were trying to get every drop of nectar from a very juicy peach. The sensations she had felt as his cock had plunged in and out of her throat, suddenly felt like only a tease as he devoured her. The stars blurred and melded as she found it hard to keep her eyes from crossing. Sucking, licking, pulsing with sublime heat, the force of him pushed her ass into the snow so that there would be a perfect depression of her curves. Stella threw her legs over his shoulders while he tasted deeply, hungrily, like a sailor who had not had fresh fruit in ages.

"You taste so sweet," the wind seemed to say, brushing frigidly across her skyward nipples. The wind moved as much a part of him as the marble-hard cock that she Needed.

"Fuck me!" she demanded, with that tone of authority there, but delirious with the hunger for him, that rage in her. "Please, fuck me," she demanded again, in a moaning, pleading sob.

Wasting no time, wanting it all the same, he moved, and she grabbed hold of his pale cock and helped him find where they both wanted it to go. The girth of him added some friction, but she was ready to take every inch. Pleasurable resistance, heat-ramped-and- giving flesh met flesh that was full, and hard and unwavering. Stella made a sharp inhalation as the skin of his pelvis crashed into hers, and he gripped her, throwing his chin to the heavens. The part of him that was the wind was like a private maelstrom, tossing his pale braids and Stella's black hair in the flecks of crystalline white that roiled around their bodies in the dark. With every powerful thrust, heat shot into the core of her and the gale buffeted her with cold.

"Do not stifle the sounds you desire to make. There is no one that can hear you but me," he said. He looked down into her eyes, his body hanging over hers, suspended by his powerful arms as he drove into her.

And like something had been unlocked, released, she moaned, long and sharp, punctuated with laughter as the energy exploded from her body. Joyous, enraptured, transfixed, she watched his body, crying out with abandon at the unearthly pleasure. As she watched his long, lean body, undulating and driving his thick cock deep inside her, she watched the glittering star field overhead--through his body. Though he looked as solid and smooth as a statue, and though his erect solidity was not in question, the wild specks of celestial light shone through his translucent body.

"What are you?" Stella uttered between inhalations and exultations of ecstasy. "For now," the wind said, "I am only yours."

Good enough, for the moment, she thought. And as to solidify her ownership of the unknown being, hands to his chest, she guided him onto his back atop the snow. His strength moved their bodies without removing his working cock from her. Strong hands held her, gripping into the flesh of her ass and her thighs, hot and alien as he helped her on top. She slid back down his marble cock, letting gravity pound them together, and again, she looked up into the stars, feeling for a moment that she should pray after something like this. She rode him, bouncing up and down, and leaning into him so that his lips and teeth could find her nipples, letting him taste what he had tempted with his wind. On top, it was not something that Stella could hold for long. The right angle, a wonderful depth, and that intense, wonderful pulsation of heat, feeling like crackling, thrumming energy through his flesh into hers... it was nearly over.