When Shelly suggested baking gingerbread cookies and making snow angels, it sounded so wholesome. I'd bring the weed -- because I always brought the weed -- and we knew we'd laugh our asses off, having a good time in the fresh snow.

I hung up with her and gathered my things, excited to spend a day playing in the snow on top of studying for tomorrow's exam. I was grateful Shelly and I were in the same class so we could study together.

I got to her house quickly, and we got high first, which was never a good idea before you go grocery shopping, but there we were on aisle three, stoned out of our minds and giggling as we tried to make sense of our grocery list.

By the time we got back to her house, we'd talked about our latest ex-boyfriends and what pieces of trash they were. The conversation continued into general man-bashing for a while, and by the time we were mixing the cookie dough and had finished our second joint, I told her my radical theory that if we taught teenage girls to masturbate, the teen pregnancy rates would drop dramatically.

We debated the idea for a while, and when we put the cookies in the oven, Shelly turned to me with her green eyes sparkling and said, “Now, let's go make our snow angels.”

She took me by the hand with the excitement of a kid on Christmas and pulled me toward the front door, rambling about how they never got snow like this where she grew up in Texas and how she loved white winters. All I could focus on was her small warm hand with neat French manicured fingertips.

We suited up in heavy parkas, beanies, and thick gloves, and she practically dove headfirst into the snow. The sun had set an hour or so before, so it wasn't late but it was cold, and the icy drip of half-melted snow clung to me through the vinyl. We chased each other, had a brief snowball fight, and spent a long while making snow angels. For a minute, we laid on our backs and stared up at the crystal sky, trying to ignore the light pollution and pretend we could see the universe.

When the oven timer sounded, we trampled back inside to check our creations. They were perfect and smelled like happy memories, but they needed to cool. Shelly shaped up the second batch of cookies while I rolled another joint. Once they were in the oven, we went out to the icy porch to smoke.

In the early evening dark, lit awkwardly by a streetlamp and the moon, we sat side-by-side on the porch swing. Our breath mingled in clouds in front of us as we huddled to pass the joint, laughing about whatever we laughed about.

Finally, Shelly took a long sigh and saying how lonely she was without a boyfriend, how cold her bed was going to be tonight. She meant it in an “oh don't you hate it when” sort of way, but I popped out with the flirty response, "I'd keep it warm for you."

Without missing a beat, she replied, “I've never done that before. Would you? Really?”

I took the joint from her outstretched hand, and our icy fingers touched. “I'd love to,” I replied. “It'd be so much fun.”

I looked back up at her face, just in time to see her leaning in to kiss me, her eyes closed, her plump lips puckered.

I quickly met her mouth with mine and pressed my lips to hers. When she relaxed and opened her mouth slightly, I ran my tongue along her top lip. When she opened her mouth all the way, I plunged my tongue into it and moved my free hand up to her shoulder -- not quite on her neck, as I didn't want her to feel I was pulling her or holding her there, but enough to touch her soft brown hair, streaked with fiery blond and red.

She had just started to nibble my bottom lip when the timer went off for the oven again.

“Oh, shit,” she said as she hurried back inside and straight to the kitchen.

I put out the joint in the ashtray, stomping my feet to warm them when I stood. Then I returned to the warm sanctuary of the house.

The smell of fresh gingerbread had been noticeable outside, but in the foyer, it was enveloping. I stamped my feet again and removed my heavy coat. As I was hanging it to put away in the coat closet, there was a loud bang from the kitchen, but when I called out, Shelly said everything was okay. My heart was pounding in my pussy. I couldn't wait to see what happened when she came back.

“Sorry about that. They look good. The first batch are cool.” She handed me one, her eyes glittering. I took a bite and savored the spice and warmth, but my eyes never left her face.

She was blushing. She seemed torn. Maybe she didn't want to kiss or do anything else? But when she looked back up at me, I knew from her eyes that she wanted more.

We finished our cookies and glasses of water, and as soon as she set down the glass, I could barely keep my hands off her. I stepped in and put my hands on her waist, asking, “Can I kiss you again?”

She smiled and nodded and leaned her head back, giving me full access to her beautiful neck.

So, I went for it, covering her jawline in kisses up to her ear and wrapping my arms around her waist. She moaned, and I leaned in as she stepped back, and together we did an awkward dance to the couch a few feet away, as our mouths met again.

She had taken off her jacket in the kitchen, and her heavy cable knit sweater met the palm of my hand when I pressed up against her. As she leaned back onto the couch, and I came down on top of her, I slid my hand under the shirt and up her flat stomach to her bra line.

Kissing her neck, I whispered, asking her to tell me it was okay. She did, so I slid my hand over the outside of her bra. Her breasts were small and gathered like plums in my hand, with eraser-sized nipples that stuck out prominently through the thin bra fabric.

I toyed with one for a minute, while I kissed down that side of her neck, then I moved to the other side and slid my hand over. She moaned in my hair, tracing her hands along my back under my shirt. Her hands were small and strong, and as she got more swept away by the feelings of having me sucking on her neck and kissing up to her bottom lip, she began digging her short, neat nails into my skin. It felt delicious.

I sat back so she could sit up and I could slide her sweater over her head. As soon as her face was out from under the fabric, I dove down to kiss her again, and she dropped the sweater as I laid her back down. Her beautiful breasts had large rubbery nipples that pushed through the fabric, calling to me to suck on them. I slipped her bra down and ran my fingers along the exposed skin, brushing over the nipples with each fingertip individually. She moaned again and pushed her chest toward me, and I leaned down to pull her firm nipple into my mouth.

I took turns sucking on both nipples, flicking them alternately with my free hand, gathering all the mass of the breast under my fingers and massaging like I was trying to work some secret out of her. She wiggled, writhed, panted, and called out to God. Exactly all the things I wanted to hear.

I wasn't sure how far she wanted to go, so I was surprised when I felt her hands move from my back around to my front. She pushed slightly on my stomach so I had to sit up, pulling my mouth away from her body. I thought she wanted to stop, so I was prepared to climb fully off from being on top of her, but when I looked down, I saw she had slid her hands to her own waistband and was unbuttoning her pants.

“Are you sure?” I asked. “We don't have to do anything you don't want to.”

“Well,” she giggled nervously, “I don't want to do anything to you, if that's okay, but I would love it if you would do something to me.”

Well, who was I to say no to that?

She slid her pants down, revealing long, pale legs with tight muscles of a soccer player and silky blue panties with lacy edges. With my mouth wrapped around one nipple, I petted over the top of her panties, stroking her pussy and clit through the delicate fabric, feeling her becoming wetter by the minute.

I raised my mouth to hers and kissed her deeply, while at the same time, slipping one finger under the edge of her panties, brushing against her wet lips. Her long pubic hair tickled against my palm as I slid my hand into position to slide my middle finger into her. When I did, she gasped against my mouth, and I felt her whole body shudder.

"Oh, that's good," she moaned. I slid my finger in and out slowly, kissing from her mouth down her neck and to her collarbone. She lay with her hands above her head, chest heaving, sweat beading between her breasts and sliding down her stomach. I trailed the bead with my tongue, tasting its salty sweetness.

When I reached her belly button, I spent a few minutes slowly stroking the flat of her stomach with my tongue. Tickling in all the spots. Sliding my finger in and out slowly, working up a rhythm in her hips. When I felt her dripping onto the palm of my hand, I used my free hand to slide her panties to the side and adjusted myself to scoot between her legs.

She gasped from the cool air tickling her wet lips, and I held my mouth a few inches from her and breathed warm air onto her wetness. She smelled like the beach, and I was intoxicated with the warmth and perfume of her, but I held myself back until she relaxed around my finger. Then, I slipped my tongue across her clit.

She ground her hips upward into my face, which I wasn't expecting but I gladly nuzzled into her pussy and pushed her lips apart. As I started lapping down her clit to her wet lips, she bucked and moaned out semi-intelligible phrases that I could only half-hear over the squishing of her cunt and the slapping of her thighs against my ears. But, I heard, "More. Please. Good. Love it," and that was enough.

I propped myself with my head tilted at an angle and swirled my tongue around her clit faster, while I dove into her pussy and stroked her g-spot, then pulled out my finger to tap at her lips, then dove back into her again.

My blood was rushing in my ears and my clit was throbbing inside my soaking panties, but I focused on her heavy moans and quickening pace. It wouldn't be long now.

As I thought it, she said it. Groaning out that she thought she was going to cum. Oh god. She was so close. Just a little more.

I kept up with her pace and she grew louder and louder, until finally, she jerked all over, grabbing the back of my head and splashing her hot juices down my hand and up onto my chin. I pulled out my finger and slid my tongue down from her clit to between her lips, lapping up her cum like I was quenching a deadly thirst.

After a minute, the tension left her body, and she loosened her grip on my hair. I started to sit up and when we made eye contact, she grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me up to her for a deep kiss.

“I think I'll sleep better now.” She giggled and stroked my hair lovingly.

“Glad I could help.” I licked my lips. They tingled with her saltiness.

As she sat up and pulled her bra back into place and reached down for her pants, she began to laugh hysterically. Deep-throated laughter complete with the most adorable snorting and full-faced redness.

At first, I got embarrassed, thinking she was laughing at me. Then, I felt a bit awkward, because I wasn't in on the joke. But then, I realized she was releasing something far deeper and more pent-up than that long-time-coming orgasm she'd just shared with me. I remembered she wasn't used to smoking weed that much and was probably still pretty stoned from earlier.

When she finally got her breath back -- by which time, she'd already put her pants back on and sat in front of me in only her lacy bra -- she shook her head, and her eyes sparkled in that farmiliar way.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I just realized we forgot to study for the exam."

"There's still time," I said. "It's early."

"You're going to keep me up all night, aren't you?" She raised an eyebrow suspiciously, and I immediately wanted to kiss her again.

"If you let me." I smiled wickedly.

She grinned back as a blush spread across her cheeks. She reached for her backpack, her delicate muscles flexing, and replied, "I guess we'd better get started."