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Winter

Warming up with you is worth the chill.
Do you know what I love most about winter?

That you hate it.

The cold gives you the sniffles and I know firsthand that you much rather enjoy being dressed down than up.

And your cheeks…they get all red, like a cute, perpetual blush, and I just can’t help but giggle when we go out together.

“Stop being so childish,” you always say. Or, “You embarrass me.”

But I know you like it.

You like to watch that little smile creep over my full, pink lips and it makes you smile cause you’re thinking about naughty things.

Yeah, you didn’t think I knew, did you?

But you get this look…the same deep, lustful gaze you give me when I have my lips wrapped around your cock.

You look at me that way and I feel warm enough for the both of us.

But…I know there’s one part of the season you fancy, isn’t there?

Not the cute way the snow kisses my cheeks when I make little angels on the front lawn….

…or even how my warm and enticing my tongue looks when I try to catch snowflakes

It’s how I greet you at the front door when you come home from work, ready to warm you up.

Ready to help you out of your coat in the doorway….

Ready to peek at pesky goosepimples that settle on your skin.

I rub your forearms gently…slowly…generating heat between us, and you bend down to kiss me.

I love that first kiss, when your lips are still cold and you’re so hungry for me it hurts.

Don’t deny it, you…

You cradle my head and tilt my chin so when your tongue slides between my lips…

it’s like a million little fireworks are going off inside me. So hot and explosive, I know my new panties are already stained.

We always skip dinner after that. Even though I’ve kept it warm for you all day between doing homework and little chores, I’m too hot to care.

I latch onto your hand and pull you up the stairs. You love seeing me so excited, and for a moment, let me take a bit of control.

Secretly, I know you love that. We have our routine, but when I sit you down on the bed, don’t think I notice the way you adjust yourself in your slacks, pulling gently over the rise of your crotch.

I bet you’re doing it now, aren’t you? You always told me you loved the sound of my voice. Hearing me whimper and whisper moan gets you hot, doesn’t it? I can see you now, palm slowly sliding up and down heated flesh, and I picture you feeding that length into my mouth.

Gentle but full of need, the way you do on those nights you call me beautiful. And I can taste the precum, salty and viscous on the tip of my tongue. Do you remember when I used to screw up my face in disgust? When you used to make me choke down your cum? Now I’d do anything for it. Now my mouth stays glued to your tip until the very end, sucking fiercely while I cup your balls in my small palm.

Anything to get you warm, right? We don’t need hot cocoa or a place in front of the fire. Just you and me between the sheets, my mouth making hot trails against your cool skin.

You’ve worked hard today, haven’t you? You don’t need to do anything but relax, love.

Your little girl will make you feel so good…

She’ll let you pull her hair…

Fuck her throat…

Put your dick anywhere you want.

It’s times like this I love. You don’t have enough strength to fully dominate, and I just want to play. I ease your slacks down your thighs while you lean back against the bedhead and watch me. The pads of my fingers are soft and smooth and my eyes wide with inexperience.

You’re usually the one to undress me, but this is why I like winter. The cold always makes people do funny things, doesn’t it?

When I get you out of your shirt, I realize you’re red all over. Your pale skin is slow to adjust to the warmth, and when I press close, I swear I feel you jump a little.

You tell me to take it easy, but I’m never able to contain myself. Even now, I wish it was winter again. We would be together and instead of running your hand over your cock, I’d be sliding along it, my tight walls sucking you in deep.

But now, I’m impatient. Though you’re nude, my clothes don’t come all the way off. I sit on your lap in my skirt, my lace panties jerked slightly to the side. You tug up my bra and press your face between my breasts. The soft, dark mounds warm your cheeks and when I shift ontop of your cock, I hear you grunt.

Winter’s cold, but your little girl is on fire.

“Slut,” you whisper when I arch my back, pulling my breasts away from your mouth.

You latched on when I wasn’t paying attention, when I was too busy grinding my hard clit along the hard length of your cock. Your warm saliva leaves a trail that clings to my dark nipple. I reach up to tweak it, but you’re faster.

Your mouth claims me again and this time you bite – it’s light, but I gasp anyway.

Under my skirt I’m seeping, weeping hot, wet juices into your lap, over the taught skin of your balls. I want to lick it, to lean down and taste us both, but you’re not having any of that. It’s winter, and you want to get warmed up quickly, don’t you?

I have no qualms with that.

I hold you in my hand first, feel the heat pulsating in my palm, but you don’t let me enjoy it for long. While I’m lost in embarrassment and wonder, you jerk up inside me with one thrust.

You fill me.

With smooth, quick strokes you fill me, and sometimes I wonder how it all fits. My little hands fly to your shoulders and pull you close for something to hold onto.

I’m on top.

I’m the one who’s supposed to be fucking you.

But we both know that’s not me.

With another grunt, you lift and push me back on the bed, but this time on my side. I’m surprised by it. You usually like me face down, but this time you grab my hand, and force your large fingers to lace through my small.

It thrills me this way. When I look up, I can see your face, the way it’s red with heat instead of cold, and the dark, glazed look in your eyes when you fuck me.

I love it all. When you lean in, the hard peaks of my nipples brush your chest and I whimper.

“Remember who’s in charge here,” you mutter on my neck and my pussy clenches you in reflex.

It sends me over the edge when you say those things to me. I become absorbed in the wet slapping sound of your cock working in and out of my tight cunt and the way the headboard rattles against the wall.

The neighbors will be mad again tomorrow, but neither of us ever care, do we?

I want your cock again just like that, just like on winters when you’re too tired to think things through and you look at me with each thrust, staring into those big, brown eyes I know you love so much.

You fuck me hard to make them water, to hear me squeal when your cock hits me deep and I feel like I might be split in two. Your lips roam my collar when you close in on ecstacy, but by that time I’m long gone. Writhing and groaning and clawing at your bare chest, pleading.

It’s at this point you lose it.

You ask me if I like it.

You demand me to answer.

Pound your little whore’s cunt until she tells you who’s boss.

You are.

You are.

Your whole body shudders when you cum. And you shut your eyes tight so you’re able to control the sound. You don't know it, but I love it when you’re loud.

I love it when you say “fuck” or groan “yeah” between my breasts.

And I feel warm all over when your cum flows inside me, or spurts in thick strands across my dark skin.

When you spasm, I shake, and it takes a long while before either of us come down from the high.

After that, you don’t like to talk.

You stare at the ceiling while I crouch and clean you off with my tongue. I watch your body regain color and your hand fondles my hair, absentmindedly.

I’m a good girl, aren’t I?

Your good girl.

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