Hot Winter Storm

The roads were already difficult to drive on before encountering the tree that blocked further progress.  Not much could be done except to  hunker down for the night.  If we threw our survival gear into the front seats, there would be room enough for a makeshift bed.

“Really, Charlie, it’s okay.  Zipping them together and both of us in one sleeping bag instead of two separate ones will conserve our body heat.  It’s going to be a long night; we need to make the most of a challenging situation.”

Soon, Barbara was on her side, and I behind her, spoon like.  I draped my right arm over her.  “I thought it was a lovely wedding, didn’t you?” she asked me.  “A renaissance theme.  A King and Queen.  Lords.  Ladies.”

“Yes, the lady’s sister was a very beautiful bride.”

“You managed to find time to look at something other than my boobs?”

“And the gentleman was quite appreciative of them.”

She rolled over.  In the blackness, I could feel the hot air of her breathing.  “The gentleman seemed quite appreciative of my ass as well while we danced.”

“A gentleman knows how to appreciate the finer things of life.”

“Got anything a lady might appreciate?”

“How’s this?” I had to be careful to not catch anything in my zipper.

“I don’t deserve such a gift.  I will cum and pour out my gratitude upon you.”

While probing her mouth with my tongue, I started the laborious task of unzipping her coat, unbuttoning her several shirts, and lifting up the heavy cotton undershirt.

“What are you doing?”

“I intend to get all these shirts out of the way and appreciate your breasts.  If the gentleman has misunderstood what the lady wants, the gentleman will stop.”


“No, what?  The lady doesn’t desire for the gentleman to ravish her, and as they say ‘lie with her’?”

“No.  I mean yes, the lady wants the gentleman to enjoy her breasts.”

“The lady wants what?”

“Her breasts to satisfy the gentleman.”

“The lady wants the gentleman to suck her tits?”

“Yes, the lady wants it.  Badly.”

“Is the lady begging?”

“No.  A lady does not beg.”

“The gentleman will not force the lady to beg.”

“Thank you.  Wait a moment.” I waited in the darkness trying to “see” her breasts being undressed for me.  In the cramped quarters, her body brushed and bumped up against mine.  “The feast is prepared, sir.  Eat heartily.”

I discovered that somehow in all the shifting around, she was completely bereft of clothing.  And now my hands were pulling on her ass, not her back, and my mouth was no where near a nipple.

“The lady appears to have changed the menu for my banquet.  Instead of choice apples from the hill country, you have presented me with fine wine and choice fruit from your garden.”

“Play on my instrument, and I will sing quietly for you while you stroll through the soft grasses and eat your fill from the garden.”

“Your tongue is whipping upon my manhood.  The lady has lowered herself to the ways of a slut and learned well the practices of a street woman.  I beg of you to leave off your torture.”

“Begging your forgiveness, sir, I am not a common harlot.  It was thrashing about my face, seeking refuge in my mouth.  I sought only for my tongue to tame the beast.  Visit your wrath upon me.  I will pay for my iniquity when your rod strikes me forty times.  With another two score strokes, your rod will restore me as a lady.  Avenge your wrath.  Thrust yet two score more lashes upon the inner most reaches of the garden.  Shout to the heavens, imploring them to grant you the satisfaction you seek.  My garden will be watered, and the gentleman’s honor restored.”

The winter storm quietly died as the storm inside our SUV reached a climax.  We donned our clothing and boots afterward and, once outside, cuddled for a few moments as we pondered the stars before parting ways for a few minutes, one to each side of the vehicle.  Then with the help of the waning twilight, we re-arranged things in the back.  This time, we weren’t limited by the confines of the sleeping bag.

“Control, this is ranger one.”

“Ranger one, come in.”

“Yes, control.  We have found a vehicle.”

“Any signs of a person or persons?”

“We see two set of footprints and two spots of yellow snow.  We can’t see anything inside the vehicle; the windows are frosted.  The car is rocking wildly at the moment, alive as it were, with the sound of music.”


“It’s not the Hallelujah Chorus, at least not the one Handel wrote.”

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