A Chilly Night

It was the worst week that far of the worst winter we'd seen for several years. If we had gotten more snow, it might have warmed things up a little bit. As it was, only the north facing walls that wore drifts, however briefly, were secured from the ever present drafts. It was the year after my wife and I got married. When we got settled, she sent for her daughter, who had been living with the ex-husband.

During that frozen week, my wife was spared our suffering. She had been called away for a two week conference in, of all places, Miami. So, though when we spoke by telephone she expressed sympathy, I knew she was happy to be almost anywhere but Montana. Fortunately, I worked at home those days, so I didn't have to contend with the traffic nightmares others did. My stepdaughter was a senior in high school that year. She bundled up every morning and trudged to the end of the long driveway and caught the yellow bus that she rode to school. She had long since gotten over the social stigma of not having her own car -- or a boyfriend with a car -- to carry her to school like the "cool" kids. They'd treated her rather poorly when she had arrived the year before, just after her mother and married. As the 'new kid', it took a while for her to make friends. Part of that was due to her different perpective on things. In many ways she was more mature than her peers, so that didn't help. In a lot of other ways she lagged, lacking in the natural cockiness most of them possessed. Of course, she'd been transplanted rather abruptly, so we told her it would take some time. The trouble was that, at the time of this story, it was her senior year, so she didn't really have the time.

She'd made some friends, but in the way of teenage girls everywhere, some of these new friends were kind of fickle. One week they were 'best buddies', the next, they seemed to find fault with much of what she did. I hurt for her a lot, having moved around a lot when I was growing up, though my birth family held intact until the end.

The weather hadn't been too bad up until New Year's. The temperature hovered from just below freezing to around ten below. But that second week of January the wind picked up and didn't stop. Even after that, the temperature didn't climb much, but I'm getting ahead of the story.

Our house was not all that old. But it had aged enough to have settled and loosened the way a tight new house tends to do over the first few years of its life. So we had drafts the way almost everybody else did. We lived three miles from town. Not far, but far enough in that weather. Arianne signaled her return from 'the wars' by stomping her way up the steps out front that Friday afternoon. A few last kicks and she decided that she'd removed all the snow and ice she could from her boots. Entering the slightly warmer mud room, she quickly slipped the frozen footwear off and replaced it with her thick fleece-lined house slippers before opening the inner door.

By the time I saw her, she'd rid herself of coat and muffler and had made herself a cup of hot chocolate. She was standing in front of the heater in jeans, sweatshirt and a baggy sweater. I wasn't cold myself because I'd been inside all day. I wore my usual flannel shirt and jeans. I crossed the room to her and enfolded her in what I tried to make a warming hug. She was trembling and her cheeks and ears were bright red. She snuffled as she leaned into my chest. After a second I even felt the cold of her nose through my shirt. "Oh, man, you are really frozen! Why don't you go up and run yourself a bath?"

"I will in a little while after I thaw a little bit." Her words didn't come out that smoothly, since her teeth were still chattering intermittently. I rubbed my hands over her back rapidly to try to create some friction. She had to set her cup on top of the heater to keep from spilling. Her arms went around my chest and she hugged me back. She'd always been an affectionate girl, after she got to know me. We'd stop and hug passing through the house. She seemed to have a special need for that kind of physical reassurance. I loved her mother a great deal and I was lucky that Arianne was the kind of person to whom that love could overflow. My wife had told me many times that Arianne had really come to love me as well. That made me proud.

I left her to her chocolate and went to the kitchen to start dinner. Since she was just in the next room, we discussed her day and the call from her mom I'd gotten earlier. Arianne asked how my book was going. She hopes to be an author one day, too. That had been another thing that had drawn us together. We talked writing for a few minutes then she returned to the kitchen and said, "Well, I'm going to go take that bath. How long until dinner?" I told her she had at least an hour. She rinsed her cup, kissed me on the cheek and went up to the second floor bathroom. A few minutes later I heard the water running and the water heater start up in the basement.

After her bath she seemed more comfortable. We ate and she worked on her homework while I pecked away at the keyboard in the den. About ten o'clock she came in and told me she was going to bed. When she wrapped her arms around me from behind I caught the scent of her bath soap. I told her she smelled nice and she thanked me. She tucked her face into the crook of my neck and said, "You smell pretty nice, yourself." I thanked her in return, but allowed that I couldn't see how, since I hadn't showered since the night before. "Still," she said inhaling deeply again, "I like it! It's a natural smell." She pecked me again on the cheek and spun to mount the stairs again.

I worked another half hour or so and decided to get a new perspective in the morning. As I brushed my teeth I thought about my stepdaughter. I'd had some small sexual fantasies about her, knowing that nothing even remotely like them could or would ever become reality. I recalled the way her small breasts felt pressed against my back that night and smiled. One day, I thought she'd make a very loving companion for some man. My wife had told me that she'd been encouraging Arianne to give her virginity away for the last two years. An unusual position for a mother, but not surprising for my wife. She, herself was a very sensual and sexual woman. She'd begun playing at sex at an early age, finally giving her virginity to the man she'd just divorced when we'd met. They'd had the two girls and struggled through a tough twenty years together.

Shortly before coming to live with us, Arianne had told her mother that she'd finally had sex with some boy from school. Her story was that it was pretty good, but it was, after all, her first experience. And it had been with a boy her age, so how experienced could he have been, I wondered. There had been no mention, at least to me, of any oral or manual play preceding that one act. I doubt there had been mention of it to my wife either. I felt she'd have told me if there had.

I went to the master bedroom. A little light shone from the small hall light we always leave on for nocturnal trips to the bathroom or kitchen. I stripped to the buff and slid between the cold sheets. A few minutes of shivering generated enough body heat to begin the warming process. I lay there in the half-dark still thinking about Arianne. Loving and caring about her the way I did, I wished I could tell her about the way sex can be when the participants really meshed and cared. I knew it was a forbidden notion, but I wished even that I could show her how it could be. It wasn't the first time that thought had drifted through my brain. As usual it aroused me to picture myself with her young body aligned with mine. I pushed the thought away feeling guilty. I tried to think instead about my book and the direction it seemed to want to take. Those were the last conscious thoughts I had before sleep overtook me.

I felt her hand on my shoulder and came awake suddenly. "What's wrong?" I demanded. Sudden awakenings in the dark always frighten me, since they can so often mean some tragedy or other. I peered at the silhouette realizing it had to be Arianne. My heart slowed as she was saying that it was too cold in her room. I considered the options. Not many right then. Without thinking too hard, I just said she could sleep on her mom's side of our bed.

It had obviously been what she'd hoped for, since without a word she rounded the foot of the bed and started for the head. Seeing her still clothed reminded me of the problem. "But, one thing, Honey," I said. "I'm naked."

"That's okay. I've seen you naked before." It was true. My general attitude toward nudity is that it isn't a big deal. When we were discussing Arianne's impending presence in our home, my wife assured me she -- Ari -- would be okay with that. Apparently, at least up until late elementary school, Ari had the habit of stripping naked as soon as she came in the door from school. By the time I met her, however, she had developed some shyness, self-consciousness, or possibly modesty. I had told my wife I'd be circumspect, at least at first. As things turned out, it had been about a month before chance had presented Ari with me in all my glory in my birthday suit. I always stay nude in the mornings before anybody else rises. At least when the weather doesn't invade the house. Ari sleeps right up until the last possible minute before she has to get ready for school. Except one morning after she'd fallen asleep earlier than usual the night before. I'd been in transit from the kitchen to the den with a fresh cup of coffee. Rounding the corner at the bottom of the stairs, I nearly collided with my new stepdaughter. We both got red-faced and stammered apologies. She moved around me and made for the kitchen herself and I continued to the den. I had taken a robe into the den earlier and slipped into it then. I noticed that, surprise and nervousness aside, Ari had taken a good look at all of me before she'd gone her way.

We discussed it later and she said she didn't care, it had just surprised her. I detected no change in her behavior or attitude toward me in succeeding days. I still didn't flaunt my nudity, but I became less careful afterward. There had been a few other similar occurrences after that and she seemed to truly not care. I was slightly disappointed that it hadn't move her to reawaken her own nude impulses, since she never appeared in my presence in less than a tee shirt and boxers.

But that frigid night, I told her she'd be warmer -- even in her own bed -- if she removed her clothes. When she asked why I explained that it was body heat that warmed the air under the blankets. The clothes kept her heat in and kept the bed cooler. She stood a minute absorbing this before she simply stripped out of her pants and shirt and slid into the bed. She apparently had foregone underwear after the bath. 'Great!' I thought, 'I just gave her a reason to get into bed naked with her naked stepfather!' I wondered how I'd be able to explain this to her mother. Then wondered if I even should try. Or maybe I should just go and shoot myself the next day to save my wife the trouble.

Ari lay near the far edge of the bed shivering. I rolled over to my side facing away from her. The shaking translated itself to the bed and I knew it would keep us both awake if it kept up. "Ari, why don't you scoot over here and just spoon up against my back. You'll get warmer sooner and we can both get some sleep." She hesitated, then I felt her moving against me. I knew this would make it more difficult for me to explain -- or I should say it would make things 'harder'. And indeed it did. I felt my cock begin to inflate as she molded her cool body against my back and ass. Her legs aligned with mine. I reached back and took her arm to draw it over my side to my stomach. I let my arm drop on top of hers. I could feel her breath against the back of my neck. Once again I could smell the fresh scent of her. I took a deep breath and sighed. No matter what happened or didn't happen, I couldn't deny that this felt absolutely wonderful. Sleep surprised me very soon.

I half awoke sometime later. In the next ten or twenty seconds -- though it seemed longer -- the following realizations passed through my mind: In the back of my mind, I knew there was something unusual. As my consciousness cleared, I recalled Ari in the bed. Then I realized she had hold of my erection. Not tight, but firmly. Her breathing indicated sleep, but I wasn't sure. I lay there wondering what to do.

I was afraid if I moved she would wake up and be embarrassed by what she'd done. On the other hand, if she was awake, I was afraid what would happen if I let her know I was awake. So I lay there struggling with my quandary. As I worked on it, her hand began to stroke me slowly up and down. I refused to believe she would do that in her sleep. So I assumed she was awake and doing it on purpose. I began to realize that I must have been played. I decided that it was exactly what had happened, though. She'd tricked me into inviting her into my bed. I couldn't understand why she'd done it, but right then I also realized I didn't care. As she continued her movement, she got braver. She squeezed it a little when she reached the knob at the head. I guess I had my answer to my question about her previous experience. This couldn't have been the first time she'd stroked a cock.

I decided the best course of action was to do nothing overt. I can't honestly say whether that was a reasoned decision or just a desire to have her continue. Her hand and her erect nipples poking my back felt wonderful. I accidentally let out a quiet groan of pleasure and she stopped abruptly. But when I didn't seem to waken she began again. I'd have to guard against that. But I wanted to play with her mind a bit, too. I took a deep breath and she stopped again. I moved a little bit and made as if to roll onto my back in sleep. She released me and backed off a few inches. Once on my back I fell back into a deeper 'sleep'.

She didn't wait long. Her hand slid over my chest and down my belly. She circled my cock with her small fingers again and squeezed, as if to test me. When I didn't react, she snaked her upper leg (she was still on her side) over my own. She flexed her knee, slowly bringing her thigh up under my balls. It also opened her up and I felt her downy pubic hair on the knob of my hip. She slowly increased the pressure there as she stroked me. This was too incredible! She was dry-humping my hip as she jerked me off! Her breathing became more labored and she seemed not to care whether I was still sleeping or not. A small noise escaped her lips, a kind of mewing. She was getting as close to orgasm as she was bringing me.

At that moment, there was not the slightest thought in my mind of my wife, guilt, incest, or anything outside that bed. My whole universe was engulfed under the blankets with this sexy young girl and myself. Once more I decided to raise the stakes. I stretched slightly and she backed off again. I rolled now onto my other side so that we were facing. Even though, this time, she had retained her grip of my hardon, I could tell she was trying to decide what to do. Finally, she, too, rolled to her other side. She slid back gently until we were spooning once more, my hard cock lying along the crack of her ass. It almost ended things for me there. The feeling was so deliciously forbidden! I looped my arm over her and hugged her to me. I was careful to keep my breathing relaxed, in a sleeping rhythm. A few minutes passed. I could almost hear the wheels turning in her head. She didn't want to stop there. She Moved her hips forward and reached back between her legs. Capturing my cock, she brought it down and up again between her thighs. Her crotch was very hot and very juicy.

She began to rock her hips very gently. I marveled that she could still believe I slept on. But maybe she didn't. I thought then that possibly she suspected my participation. She still said nothing, nor did I. Her hips slipped back and forth along my length. The head of my cock had to be rubbing her clit, pushing her closer to coming. I was just wondering how far she would take the game when I felt a shift in the angle of her pelvis. She tilted her waist away while bringing her ass back. With two fingers, she managed to insert the tip of my cock into her wet slit! I felt her heat surround me. She waited -- either to see my reaction or to let herself adjust to the size of my dick. Then she pushed back some more. She inched me into herself until she was backed against me. I still lacked a couple of inches of full insertion, since that would have taken a major rearrangement of our positions. And would have required us to acknowledge what we were doing.

Her motions getting me inside her had allowed me to slightly shift the position of the hand that was in front of her. I had moved it so that I had hold, however loosely, of her small breast and nipple. I wasn't going to last long, I knew. I wasn't worried about impregnating her, since I'd had a vasectomy years before. She established a gentle rhythm and I had all I could do not to join her in thrusting up into her depths. We both had lost track of our breathing by then but still refused to acknowledge anything that was happening.

I felt her orgasm begin. Her muscles clutched me and then I lost track of her orgasm because I was too busily involved in my own. I felt our combined fluids squishing out around me and running down between us to her thigh and the sheet under us. When we both had stopped spasming we just lay there. My hand was full of her breast and my cock was still inside her. I heard and felt her breathing slow down as mine did. While I tried to sort out my emotions, I realized somewhere along the line that she seemed to have relaxed completely. Then I heard a quiet little snuffle of a snore. She had gone back to sleep! Once again I had a dilemma. I didn't know if I should extricate myself or just leave things as they were. As tempting as the latter idea was, it could, I knew, give us both a problem or two.

If I stayed where I was I would probably regain my erection. That would probably lead to another round and leave us without deniability -- or at least me without it. Also if I fell asleep again as well, there was the chance that the bright light of day would find us still joined at the crotch. This would also force us to acknowledge what we'd done. Finally I reluctantly slipped myself out of her and left that beautiful place between her slender thighs. I moved onto my back and lay there a few minutes absorbing the feelings tumbling over themselves inside me. I wasn't anywhere ready for sleep again then, so I carefully edged away and out of bed. The cold air hit me with a shock and I grabbed up my robe, stepped into my slippers, and tiptoed from the room.

I went to the kitchen and poured myself a shot of bourbon. I tossed it back and felt the burn. My penis tingled with memory. I could still smell her light scent around my head, but I could also smell our sex around me. Standing in the darkened kitchen I gazed out the window above the sink. Lights glowed in the distance, caused to twinkle by the flying snowflakes in the air. I moved to the living room and flipped on the outside light. The trees had stopped their dancing and the snowflakes in the air were falling straight down. Fresh snowfall, not windblown. I realized then, too, that the drafts had stopped seeping in around the weatherstripping. The weather had broken.

I thought of bedding down on the couch then, to avoid any embarrassment in the morning. Ari could rise, dress in privacy and pretend nothing had happened. She would be warm enough to stay in her own bed that next night. But the idea seemed foreign to me. To finish the night on the couch seemed like a betrayal and an admission of guilt. I simply could find no trace of guilt about what we'd done. I went to the bathroom, rinsed my mouth and returned to bed. The aroma of sex hit me when I lifted the covers and Ari stirred slightly. I slipped in beside her and moved to spoon her once more. What happened in the morning would happen. I'd awaken before she did anyway. I hugged her to me and cupped her breast. I loved her even more that night than I ever had before. Should I have stopped her at the first move? Would it have been better to deny her what she obviously wanted? What she needed?