Snow Angel

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Imagine the two of us on a day hike into the winter hills. We pack light and travel fast, confident that our unquenchable energy and thirst for each other will sustain us as we explore the dark and mysterious wood.

We follow a secluded path along a winding and neglected trail. Crunching through the twisted, snow-capped brush, we trudge silently along.

Energized by the excitement of the unknown, you lead the way, glancing amusedly over your shoulder to check if I am keeping pace. I use your beautifully curved hips, perfectly molded to your one-piece ski suit, as a guide as you disappear into the thicket.

I loose sight of you for anxious moments at a time. Blinded by the snow shaken from the branches of overhead trees, I grope my way along until I break upon a unexpected clearing in the wilderness; a hidden glen of in the middle of the forest covered in an undisturbed blanket of freshly fallen snow.

I find you standing silently alone in the middle of this patch of glistening earth. You are the vision of an angel in a billowy frozen cloud of white. This secluded place, in seems, was magically created for us and, without a word spoken, we know that it is here that we shall pay homage to nature and our natural desires. We drop our packs and run toward each other, our steps mired by the snow’s depth. After what seems angonizing hours to travel so short a distance, we crash together in a long and loving embrace, passionately grinding our pelvises together.

With thickly gloved hands I awkwardly paw at your puffy protective clothing. As if peeling you like a piece of fresh fruit, I salivate in the anticipation of feasting on the juicy sweetness within. Roughly unclasping the top half of your suit, I manage to wrestle the down-filled sleeves off your supple shoulders leaving only a wool sweater between you and the elements. I press my body close to you to share my body heat as well as the growing swell of flesh from within the crotch of my ski pants. For a luxurious moment, you are completely helpless and at the same time dependent as you struggle to remove your ski gloves. With şerifali escort one last yank, they fall noiselessly to the forest floor.

Your raise your freed arms in mock submission. With one motion, I rip your sweater over your head. Your ski cap pops off and with it your silken hair shakes loose and then falls gently back about your cherubic face. The last article of clothing separating your alabaster skin from the cold is gone and your full and milky breasts burst free in the winter air.

Gasping and wide-eyed from the sting of the sudden cold, your nipples redden and protrude into two crimson cherries. You rasp deeply as your lungs become accustomed to the obviously burning, yet visibly erotic, sensation. The air expelled from your adrenaline charged body crystallizes and forms a languorous icy fog between us.

Delirious with desire and overcome by the sight of you exposed and bravely defying the harshness of your surroundings, I cover your chilled flesh with a flurry of warming kisses, each suckle leaving a bright mark that traces my mouthings from the curve of your neck, pausing greedingly on each succulent tit, and down the silky trail of hair upon your quivering tummy.

You stand me upright and, with the renewed vigor, begin you exposure of me. You effortlessly unzipped my down jacket and toss it aside into the snow. I continue to marvel at your seeming obliviousness to the cold — you having stoked your inner flame with some mystical fire of feminine desire. You kneel in the foot deep snow before me. Easily unbuckling the fasteners of my ski pants, you triumphantly fold back the fly to claim your prize.

Without bothering to pull down my now straining underpants, you plunge your face into the warm, dark cavity. I am sent into heavenly bliss as you wrap your full, pouting lips completely around my bulge. Slowly you blow, toasting my cock and balls with your heated exhalation. I indicate my delirious pleasure with a series of long gutteral moans until, with a sudden a sudden and surprising jerk, you slip your silivri escort hand over the waistband of my shorts and pull my engorged schlong free. You laugh, evilly, as I buck my hips in frantic reaction to my suddenly exposed manhood.

“Oh, shit It IS cold!” I howl as you maintain a vice-like grip on my now freezing man meat, not letting go no matter how desperately I squirm.

With a sly grin, you allow me to suffer a few more excruciating seconds and then, tenderly, you begin flicking your soft and glossy tongue along the mishandled, swollen shaft. I twitch uncontrollably with every healing lick as each sends stimulating tingles through my ass and up my spine.

“Hmmm”, you smack between laps. “So, I guess it isn’t true after all.”

Perplexed, I ask, “What (oh) the heck (oh damn) are you talking about (oooh shiiiiit, babeee!)?”

“Your knooow,” you coo as you end your flicking and begin to slather my now totally teased and tortured phallus in your saliva filled mouth, “The old warning about never sticking your tongue on a frozen pole.” Amused at yourself, you clamp your teeth down on my pecker in a playful bite.

“Why you totally devilish…!” I snort in a mockingly mean tone, my retort echoing through the trees.

Realizing that I been the butt of your (rather clever) joke, I decide to take my role as ‘straight man’ literally. Deceptively running my fingers through your hair, I suddenly clasp them behind your head for leverage. With one forceful thrust, I drive my hips forward for a more controlled entry into your more than accommodating mouth. Your muffled squeal of approval causes the helmet of my bloated sausage to swell as your luscious lips glide smoothly along its throbbing thickness. Your jaws slacken and your eyes roll and strain withing your lids as it embarks upon its journey past your cheeks and over your glossy tongue.

As always, I am amazed by your muscular control Your throat loosens and opens easily, instinctively. I can feel the head of my pulsing member come to rest against your şirinevler escort tonsils.

You begin to piston you head back and forth. Slowly at first, and then faster as my hips match the rhythm of your exquisite, sword-swallowing technique. I toss back my head as my sensations are sent skyward. Totally enraptured by your fellatic skill, I unashamedly bellow in sheer delight.

“Yes my sweet baby, you suck me sooooo good!” I gasp. “Oh yeah, suck me baby! Jeeeez ooooh, your lips are as juicy as your pussy! ooooh gaawwwwd!”

Spurred on by my response, you continue your oral manipulation of my meat log in earnest. Your cheeks puff and collapse with each bob of your head. The rays of the mid-day winter’s sun are captured in the highlights of your golden hair as it flies in all directions.

That familiar, sublimely aching feeling begins to swell deep within my swollen nut sacks which you’ve fondled vigorously throughout our round of al fresco cock sucking. But, much to my surprise and discouragement, you suddenly lean back on your heels. With an audible plop, my poor pecker is once again exposed and waving helpless and neglected in the frigid air.

Cupping your beautiful boobs within your hands, you thrust them at me forming a repository of smooth, ivory flesh in which to my deposit my soon to be arriving seed. With no further invitation needed, I grasp my rigid pump handle and take aim. With a masturbatory tug or two, I send a drenching spray of thick and rich man-milk arching onto your heaving breasts. The searing heat of my sperm against to the coldness of your skin makes your eyes roll in ecstasy as I proceed to bath your finely sculptured torso with my love lava. Your body arches and lurches in the throes of orgasmic abandon as you plunge your hand down the front of your ski pants in an attempt to shovel the quickly cooling spunk into your now gushing and pulsating quim.

As if arriving at the end of a wild, runaway sleigh ride, you slowly come to a complete stop. Swaying to some inner melody, you moan softly as you absently lick the intermingling of my come and your pussy juices from your fingers. Head tilted down, your eyes dreamily closed in oblivious genuflection in the snow.

I gaze adoringly at the sight of my serene and delicate angel cradled in the stark white of frozen fluffiness and I smile, thinking to myself how this woman has not only conquered the harshness of the elements; she has also conquered my soul…

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Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

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