Snow!

Have you noticed, it can be savagely cold outdoors, yet when it snows, it somehow feels warmer? Especially while it is snowing? Someone explained to me why an igloo works, and why it is possible to actually sweat in one. Apparently the air that is held in the blocks of snow makes an excellent insulator. Who’d have thought it? 

As I stand in my lounge, I look out on a perfect vista of white. Well, almost perfect. There is the building work that is going on around our new pool. There’s a large white tent over the main pool, so they can get on with the tiling and plumbing. Beyond that, I can’t really see, so I wander lazily upstairs.

I’m aware of my own scent this morning. I need a shower, but not yet. I open one of the back bedroom doors. It has an original window, made of small, leaded pains of glass behind which is secondary glazing. From here I can see over the back hedge and into the fields and the valley beyond. Oh, but it’s beautiful out there. So utterly still. 

But then a quick movement catches me eye. A fox darts along the tree line, it’s brush straight out behind. It pauses on the edge of the wood and gives a sharp, piercing cry, so like someone screaming, and suddenly is gone, into the darkness beyond. 

The radiator under the window is carrying a convection of warm air up to my face and it is permeated with my scent. I reach lazily under my sleep t-shirt which is all I am wearing. My exploring fingers tell me I am very wet this morning. Emily wasn’t feeling well last night, so we didn’t make love. I just held her until she dozed off to sleep. She is immensely cuddleable, and soon I drifted off too. I have a vague memory of having an erotic dream. Isn’t it odd how a dirty dream seems to fade like the morning mist the day after. All I know is that I had one. 

My T shirt is getting in the way so I take it off and stand naked at the window. I don’t care if one of the builders comes out of their tent and sees me. Why would I? My left hand finds my boob. It’s hard, pert, and the nipple painfully erect this morning. I have discarded my nipple piercings. They were ok for a while, but now they catch on Emily’s teeth, and I realised that, for me, they were just a masturbatory aid, nothing more. 

Miss Brain is in a fuzz this morning. She doesn’t seem to want to come out to play at all. Still, the feelings between my legs are growing nicely. I dip two fingers into my wetness and curl them forward onto my g-spot. Mmmm, there’s nothing like that feeling, especially with a full bladder. It’s a pleasure/pain thing for me. I pull my fingers reluctantly out of myself and look at them. It’s odd that as I go through my cycle, my wetness seems to change from a clear, absolutely transparent lubrication, almost like baby oil in consistency, to a thicker, creamier substance. It looks divine, and tastes even better. I treat myself to sucking my fingers clean, before returning them to the dark sanctity of my vagina where they will get covered again. 

With no idea why, suddenly Ali’s boyfriend Chris pops into my mind. Ah, but he’s not fucking me in the image I have, but he is just about to enter Alison. I see her sprawled on top of her bed, her legs spread wide, exposing her gaping sex to him, and I see the precise moment his cock starts to stretch her apart as he pushes in her. I remember something she said “I like him to push inside me the whole way in one gentle yet firm movement. And I like him to do it just a little bit before I’m totally ready. It stings a little, and I love it.” 

Miss Brain is awake now, and as she sometimes does, she supplies a variation that has never happened in real life, but oh, I’d love it if it did! 

Have you seen The Handmaid’s Tale? Basically an infertile society press fertile women into service. You have a couple whose woman is barren, infertile, and they buy a fertile woman for breeding purposes. The husband can’t just fuck her though. His wife has to hold the slave as her husband fucks her, and that’s the image Miss Brain pops into my head. 

I am naked, lying on Alison’s bed, my own legs spread around her. She is lying between my legs with her head between my boobs. Chris is fucking her, slowly and with fully penetrative strokes. I can feel Alison’s backbone against my clit. Every time Chris pushes I feel a couple of bumps ride over my clit and back again. Ali has her arms draped over my thighs and her hands grasp my shins. 

Chris picks up the pace and the movement over my clit becomes sublime. 

Standing at the window, I realise I’m masturbating in a whole new way. No fingers in me, no finger tips on my clit. Instead I’m using my knuckles and rubbing them over and over up and down my sensitive little sex bean. 

I close my eyes and I’m back with the illusion. I can see Chris and feel his urgency as he fucks my sister. I so want to reach round for her boobs, but that’s not allowed. She must get there purely from him, although somehow, I know I shall get a reward if I resist the temptation now. I’m not even allowed to kiss her shoulder. 

He’s moving faster now, and Alison alternates her moaning with urgent commands. “Yes….just there….fuck me……fuck me harder…..ohhh fuck…..make me cum….make me cum…..cum in my cunt….do it noooooow!” Chris rears up over her as my sister orgasms. He holds perfectly still for a few seconds and I know he is cumming inside her. I also know (from personal experience in the real world) that he is an immensely heavy cummer. 

He suddenly withdraws, and instinctively I open my mouth. A long arc of semen jets out of his cock, arcs high in the air over Alison’s shoulder and lands in my open mouth. I swallow it greedily and he moves up the bed and allows me to suck his balls dry and also clean my sister’s cunt from his cock. 

The orgasm is fierce. I am cumming so hard it’s making my squirt splatter onto the ancient oak floorboards under my feet. The orgasm just won’t stop, nor do I wish it to. I seem to alternate between the image of sucking Ali off her boyfriend’s cock, and the very real risk of being seen by one of the two builders. I know the younger one, his son, has seen me masturbate before. That thought provides some lovely aftershocks, especially when I think he might have jacked off thinking about what he saw that day…what I contrived to let him see. 

I suddenly feel cold. It’s the shower for me, and the laundry hamper for this particular sweaty T shirt. 

I take one last look over the countryside as I stand there naked but glowing. It’s a beautiful land, and I love living here with my future wife. I have Emily, and for the time being at least, I have my sister’s boyfriend’s cock once a month too. 

What’s not to like?