Sir has tasked me with creating a series of stories/scenarios about sexual situations. Some will be drawn from past events, some will be things i'd like to have happen, and some will be pure fiction, spun from my imagination and best left there. LOL.
I woke this morning to find 6 inches of fresh snow covering the world outside. I stood at the sliding glass door and just marveled at the clean, pure freshness of it, the cold seeping in the sides of the door and freezing my bare feet. I shivered, and turned to pour myself some coffee. Mmmm. The heat was perfect on this chilly morning.
Fortified by my steaming cup of java, I pulled on some warm fleecy sweats, stuffed my sock-clad feet into boots, wound a scarf around my neck and pulled on my jacket and gloves. I grabbed the shovel from the front porch and began the task of clearing away the accumulated snow from the porch steps, sidewalk, and up the driveway. The work quickly fell into a rhythm .... bend, scoop, throw as I straighten, repeat. Endlessly. I felt my arms, shoulders and back grow tired, and then begin aching. My nose started running, so I stripped off my gloves and retrieved a tissue from my coat pocket. This is one of my big complaints about cold weather - my nose always, always runs.
Eventually (45 minutes later) I called my shoveling job "good enough" and trudged back to the house. I was cold, and tired, and sniffling, and I just wanted to get warm, please. I propped the shovel against the house and pushed the front door open. After spending that time outside, the heat of the house seemed almost stifling, but I was happy to have it. I draped my coat on the door knob, shucked my boots and dropped my damp gloves and scarf on the floor register to dry.
The coffee pot was still hot, so I poured another cup and sipped it carefully. The heat from the cup seeped into my frozen fingers but it didn't seem to be enough; I was still shivering, and couldn't seem to get warm enough. There was nothing to do but run a hot bath and soak for a while. What a shame.
I set my coffee cup on the kitchen counter and went off to the bedroom. I stepped into the attached bathroom and turned on the water to the tub before stripping out of my snow- and sweat-dampened clothes, dropping them in a heap on the floor. I poured some baby oil into the water - Lord knows my winter skin can use the moisture boost - and pulled my hair up into a ponytail as I waited for the tub to finish filling.
I stepped carefully into the tub - ooh, that water was hot! I sank down into the water, which reddened my skin almost immediately. I propped my feet on the end of the tub to lift them out of the water for a while, as the temp was too hot for comfort. Then I leaned back against the wall of the tub, sliding down so that the water just covered my shoulders. I had to bend my knees, but that was OK. I laid my head back against the tub wall and closed my eyes, relaxing into the oiled water and allowing my aching muscles to soak in the heat. Mmmm.
I'm not sure how long I stayed like that, but it was long enough that I nearly dozed off and the water cooled significantly. And then a whole different set of muscles began to protest at being held in the same position for too long. I groaned as I sat up and straightened out my legs, and as the cool air of the bathroom hit my water-heated skin, I shivered. Reflexively, I rubbed my arms to warm them again and my hands skidded over my oil-slicked skin. It was slippery, and soft, and warm, and it felt kind of good, actually, so I did it again, more slowly and firmly. Yes, that definitely felt nice.
I dropped my hands to the tops of my thighs and slowly stroked my palms down my legs, feeling the way the oil-slicked skin just flowed under my fingers, and the way the still-warm water lapped against my body. That was very nice, indeed. I closed my eyes again and massaged my legs, stretching and bending and reaching all the way down to my ankles, then retracing the path back up my legs. I splayed my fingers open and shivered as my fingertips grazed the sensitive flesh of my inner thighs. I opened my eyes and watched the path of my fingers as I teased my skin once more, and I shivered harder this second time.
Now I began to feel a tingling which had very little to do with cold flesh rewarming. I slid down into the water a bit further, bending my knees and parting my thighs so that they pressed against the side of the tub. I smoothed my hands along my body, circling from my knees and up along my outer thighs, skimming up over my ribs, across my chest and directly over my nipples, down over my stomach and along my inner thighs to my knees again. By the third slow pass, my nipples had stiffened, and on the fourth pass, as my fingertips grazed the taut peaks, a spear of desire shot through me and my back arched against the tub wall. Ooh, that was quite nice, indeed.
I tipped my head back to rest on the tub wall, closing my eyes once again, and allowed my right hand to drift lazily down my body to nestle between my legs. My skin was so soft, and slick, and slippery, and the sensations I experienced as I rubbed my finger over my clit caused sparks to flicker behind my closed eyelids. I released a soft moan and began rubbing myself a little bit faster, a little bit more firmly, and I felt a rush of desire building low in my belly, increasing as I increased the tempo and pressure.
Despite my somewhat awkward position, my hips started rocking a little, which caused the water in the tub to slosh back and forth and settle into waves which licked across my body, creating a sensation similar to the way my hands felt as they stroked my skin. I had not expected the frankly sensual way the water seemed to caress me, sending waves of warmth over my body, but it was delicious all the same. My heart rate increased and my breathing sped up as I stroked myself, and I brought my other hand up to play with my breast, teasing the taut nipple and squeezing the ample soft flesh. I tossed my head to the side and sighed, deeply, surrendering to the feelings coursing through my body, allowing my thoughts to float away and focus simply on the physical sensations.
It wasn't much longer until I felt the first stirrings of impending orgasm, the fluttering in my stomach, the raspiness of my breathing, the way my heart beat in my chest. My arm was beginning to tire, but I kept up the rhythm of pressure and motion against my clit, and pressed my back a bit more firmly against the tub. Then I felt a tiny shudder under my fingers, my inner walls contracting just a little, not a real climax, exactly, but a precursor, a tiny taste of what was to come if I just kept going and had just a little bit more patience.
I bore down even more strongly with my fingers, coaxing more sensation against my swollen nub, and at the same moment I twisted my nipple sharply. That sharp sting made me cry out and arch my back sharply, and that was the end - my orgasm took me then, drawing my muscles tight in response to the explosion I felt consuming me from my belly and flowing out through my body and all through my limbs. I was aware of my voice keening, but I could not stop it; I was powerless to do anything at all other than pant and shudder and ride it out.
Once the wave had passed, I realized that the water in the tub had become tepid, and I was shivering now due to feeling chilled. I pulled myself out of the tub, stepping carefully to avoid slipping, and quickly toweled off. My legs were shaky, my arms felt heavy, and as soon as I was dry, I wandered to the bedroom and pulled on a soft cotton camisole and panties. I curled up on my bed and pulled the quilt over me; and I felt myself warming up, relaxing, almost melting into the bed, feeling my body grow heavy as the exhaustion from the shoveling and the intensity of my climax took their toll. I know I dozed off, because I came back to consciousness a couple hours later, still sleepy, but not so weary. I padded out to the kitchen to see about a late lunch, feeling satisfied and peaceful and content.
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