Morsu Frigus

Posted by: Author: Age: 26 Posted on: 0 comments
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Biting Cold.


The heavy, leaden sky sat above me, like an ominous, suffocating blanket. The threat it contained unspoken, yet no less real. At first, only a few, small, insignificant flakes drifted earthwards, melting instantly and sometimes before they even touched the cold embrace of the grass. Then, just after lunchtime, there was a barely perceptible change. Can one smell snow? I knew, even as I sat wrapped up in my dressing gown, in front of a log fire, that it had started to snow.

A look through the window revealed a world already wrapped in white, the flakes large and so thick that I could barely see across the road.

What perversity is it, that when the snow starts it actually feels warmer? The sight, though, was picture-postcard idyllic. The world covered in a thickening blanket of silence.

Where did the thought originate? I have no idea, but I knew I wanted to feel the kiss of the snow on my body. I slipped some boots on, but walked into the garden in my PJ bottoms and my thick dressing gown. I lifted my face and felt the delicate kissing commence. Without a second thought, I slipped my dressing gown down, over my shoulders and the snow kissed my rapidly hardening nipples. The cold was biting, savage, and utterly erotic. I let those gentle flakes nip and bite my nipples into tantalising hardness. I would have loved to have stripped naked there and then, but the snow was falling too fast now, and a little way further, by the lake, the boathouse beckoned.

Safely inside, I made my bed in the bottom of the boat where I could see out onto the wintery seen beyond. The lake was frozen, although the ice will not be thick enough to skate on for a few days yet. Then, I lay on my make-shift bed, my legs spread over the sides of the boat, my vagina exposed to the knife-like eddies of the cold winter air.

I closed my eyes, and let myself become one with the blizzard. The wind rose now, blowing the snow into drifts and rattling the boards of the old boathouse. As the wind grew in intensity, so did my climax until with a sudden gust, I came in primal, exstatic waves, crying out as I did so.

I lay there for a while, covered in my dressing gown, and as quickly as it started the wind dropped, returning me to a world of swirling whiteness. My arousal dissipated into a warm, glow. Barefoot, and naked, I walked back to the house and a warm shower.

I have more that I would like to do in the snow. I have seen photographs of girls, naked in thick snow and want to do the same.

Tomorrow, the blanket of whiteness and my camera beckon.



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