Snowbound - Sex In The Snow!

Let’s go for a walk,” Stephanie suggested brightly. I didn’t take much convincing; sitting inside while the snow stacked up outside was like letting it gloat; it had already mucked our weekend plans but it wouldn’t hold us prisoner in our own home. Stephanie scurried away to dress as I pulled on my thick hiking boots and threaded my scarf around my neck. She emerged from the bedroom all ready, peering out from the furry rim of her winter coat, green eyes sparkling beneath the band of her woollen beany hat. She flexed her fingers together to settle the leather gloves onto her hands. Beneath the visible sliver of a denim skirt she wore a pair of thick tights decorated with snowflakes that she had bought at Christmas but never worn. They looked fantastic on her, hugging her shapely legs all the way down to her knee high black leather boots. She saw me appraising her and giggled. “You and your hosiery…” “And the boots. Don’t forget the boots. And the gloves for that matter.” I pulled on my own winter coat, begrudging the fact it was hanging on the rack and not bundled into the wardrobe as it should have been at this time of year, then my gloves. Within moments we were outside, fastening coats as tight as they were go to keep out the chill. Tiny snow particles drifted languidly on an icy breeze as we trudged out onto the road past great white mounds that flashed occasional strips of colour or showed off a protruding wing-mirror or antennae; anybody foolish enough to attempt to dig their car out of the growing drifts certainly wouldn’t manage to drive it very far so few had tried. Tyre tracks along the road had filled swiftly, replaced with trails of footprints tracing uneven lines to their destinations. “I love how everything changes when it snows,” Stephanie said. “The roads and the paths go away and people just walk anywhere.” “That’s awfully philosophical,” I said. “It is a bit, isn’t it? Quick, draw a cock in the snow.” I took her hand and we walked, chatting idly, effortlessly, as we made our way towards the wood where we often walked after dinner. It was a series of paths weaving amongst trees, steps and slopes and streams, a quite respite from the buzz of the city a mile away. It was a popular route for joggers and dog walkers, but today it was almost deserted. Aside from the occasional track of foot and paw prints the snow that had fallen along the public paths was pristine and undisturbed, and as we moved further away from the suburban streets the quiet became absolute, serene and still in a winter landscape, broken only by the gentle crunch of our own feet in the snow. “This is lovely,” Stephanie said, each sweet breath misting as it escaped her smiling pink lips. “Are you warm enough?” “Just about,” I said, rubbing my hands together, the friction doing little to bring additional heat to my digits. “I’m a little too hot in this,” Stephanie mused, and unbuttoned the toggle just below her throat. “That’s better.” I glanced sideways and from my angle I could see inside her coat and the exposed peach flesh beneath. I let out a shocked gasp. “Are you…” “Am I what?” “Are you topless under there?” She skipped ahead and walked backwards before me, glancing around to ensure we were indeed alone. We may as well have been the only two people on the planet, and she quickly unbuttoned the next two latches on the thick brown coat and peeled the thick material back to expose herself. Her pert breasts sat snugly against the fur lining of the coat, the cool air and her own excitement making tiny barbs of her brown nipples. I couldn’t help but laugh, realising she had run off to the bedroom and stripped off her top as I’d been pulling on my coat. She was stunning, curls of red hair hanging from beneath her woollen hat, lips curved in a playful smile as she exposed her breasts to me, giggling at her own naughtiness. It made my heart soar, and I loved her so fiercely in that moment, adored her playful spirit, her sense of adventure, propriety be damned. Tiny flakes of snow peppered her goosepimpled skin and she snapped the coat shut again, shivering in delight. “You are so naughty,” I said. “You love it,” she said, still backstepping but slowing down so I could catch up with her. I put my hands on her hips and pulled her close. Her crotch grinded against mine, coaxing my loins to stir as she had done so on countless occasions. The faint smell of her perfume and cherry lip balm soothed me as our lips met, and her eager tongue slipped its way into my mouth, a sure fire way of getting my full attention below the belt. “I do,” I breathed. “What’s the friskiest thing you’ve ever done in the snow?” “Snowball fight,” she joked, and a laughed into the crook of her neck, looking into the folds of her coat to see the swell of her cleavage as she giggled. “No, it was really kinky. Unprotected. I didn’t wear gloves!” I peeled back the thick layers of the coat to expose her again, right there on the footpath, our own private slice of the outside world, and cupped her breasts with my gloved hands, flexing my fingers into the supple flesh. “I was hoping to make the number one today,” she said, sweet breath foggy in the chill. I kissed her again, hungrily, and with another way glance around I lowered my head, flicking my tongue over her icy flesh, the raised brown flesh of her areola a textured symphony beneath my careful ministrations. “It’s a plan,” I said, pinching her nipples between my teeth the way I knew she loved. She squeaked with glee and I pressed my luck, nipping tighter until she gave a small but stern slap with her leather gloved fingers. The gentle blow was raw against my skin and I seethed and pulled away. My angel withdrew from me, her bare breasts a lure I could never resist; she led me a few feet off the main path to a small grove amongst snow-laden bushes, leaning against the frosty bark of a gnarled tree. It towered over us with its brethren, branches drooping beneath the weight of the snow. She arched her back against he wood, breasts thrust out towards me and I cupped them once more, nestling my face between their ample warmth. Stephanie love her breasts being played with in every way, kissed, licked and sucked and I obliged her desires as I always did. A gloved hand tickled my neck and slid through my tousled hair and she gasped and giggled with every motion. “You must be so cold,” I said, rolling my tongue against the stiff bullets of her nips. “Just so fucking turned on,” she breathed, and took my hand and pushed it between her legs. Her short denim skirt rolled up across her spread thighs and my wool-clad fingers pushed against the undercurve of her body; I could feel so little and withdrew my hand. “Let me,” she demanded. I put a fingertip to her mouth and her teeth pinched the material over my index finger. With a whip of her neck she took the glove off and let it fall away. My fingers quickly returned to their destination, warmed immediately by the heat radiating from her nethers. I circled the thick denier material and sensed instantly the moisture that had soaked through. She wasn’t wearing panties. She watched my reaction and giggled when my face split with a shocked grin. “Oh, Steph…” I breathed. “Always be prepared,” she said as I massaged the folds of her moistening snatch through the thick denier stitching, pushing it delicately into the shallow pool of her spreading joy. I honed in on her clit, circling it, still suckling at her nipples. I maintained eye contact throughout, just the way she loved; made her feel like the only soul on the planet I would ever love, ever pleasure in this way. She stroked my cheek with a gloved finger, puffing hot breaths in synch with every flick of my fingers. I sucked in those escaping clouds as we kissed hungrily, our breaths becoming one. My bare fingers felt the cold and sought warmth, diving beyond the elastic waistband of her tights and sliding against her flesh until they found her tender furrow. I rolled the pad of my finger against her swollen clit and she mewled in my ear. My middle and forefinger split and skated down her labia, skating the surface of her wetness. Stephanie’s hips bucked against me, wanting me deeper. I move my hand to her throat and clutched her bare flesh in a motion that was both gentle and firm and held her gaze as I sank my fingers deeper, curling them against her, vanishing into her like they were being drawn by her own gravity. She pursed her lips and breathed a slow breath, her thigh muscles vibrating. Those knee high boots held firm. I knew every inch of her body; we are more compatible than we’d been with any other partner either of us had ever been with. Those first months of our relationship had been spent in beautiful exploration of each other’s pleasures, passions and erogenous hotspots. I knew the precise location of her internal joy and stroked the pads two fingers against it, a conductor orchestrating the symphony of her delight. The tremulous cry started in her chest, low and breathy and echoing out of her open mouth as sound and mist. She held the back of my neck and rode my hand. I never looked away form her eyes. I was hers and she mine and it would always be this way. We were responsible for each other. Our safety, wellbeing, emotions and joy were dependent on the other and we would tend to each others needs until the sun burned out. I guided Stephanie to her own supernova and her eyes widened, rolled and grew momentarily distant, lids fluttering as she came with a seething, barely controlled rasp. She hung off me until her orgasm subsided then relaxed against the tree bark, the flushed-red flesh of her chest heaving, the swell of her bosom a beautiful, hypnotic delight. “Oh, I love you. I adore every inch of you,” I said, sliding my fingers free of her. I held them between our faces. They were coated with her musky moisture and as the icy air assaulted them the residual heat turned to steam and drifted from those digits like smoke. Stephanie took my wrist and directed my fingers to my mouth, delighted as I sucked her essence from them. Hers was a fresh and tangy taste that I never got tired of.