RMC: Rocky Mountain Christmas

On the other hand, how many times have I ever been to a strip club, seen some 19, 20 or 21-year-old daughter of someone else giving me a lap dance, rubbing her gorgeous titties in my face, rubbing up across the erection buried in my pants -- and, depending on the location, willing to provide some sexual relief, not because she is forced to, but because she wants to, she enjoys it? Or was it just that they enjoyed the money? Of course it's for the money, you asshole! No girl that age is really interested in a guy more than twice her age!

I had a hard-on when I went to bed, but I took care of that rapidly enough. I tried imagining some anonymous stripper as I jerked off. Her anonymous face kept becoming Bug's face. I tried remembering the last set of tits I'd admired in a strip bar, the last set that had been wiggled in my face, dragged across my nose. The girl had larger boobs than what I imagined were Bug's 34 A's or B's, her areolas larger, her nipples not as erect. My fantasy shifted; in my mind I was sitting in the living room of the lodge, and the stripper had sunk between my legs, mouthing my pole, telling me how she was going to make my pole real hard before she did a pole dance on me. I came before I got that far, but as I came, there was no doubt the face and body I was fantasizing about belonged to my niece sleeping in the room across the hall.

I slept fitfully, my mind not turning off the fantasy, even after I achieved physical release. Sometime during the night, I got up and wandered out to the living room, put another couple of logs into the well decayed fire. Outside, the clouds were visible from the light of the moon partially hidden behind their fleeing shapes. I turned on an outside light momentarily and checked on the snow. It appeared to have stopped, about like expected.

~

It was about 8 when I awoke again, groggy and totally un-rested. I drug myself into the attached bathroom, hoping a hot steamy shower would help me wake. It did, all I needed now was some coffee.

I dried off, wrapped the towel around myself and stepped back into the bedroom, the smell of coffee hitting my nose. I did a double take noticing that the bed had been made up. Oh shit, I thought and glanced at the bedside nightstand; the Kleenex that I'd used to sop up my bellybutton full of cum last night was still by the bedside. Maybe she didn't notice? I doubted it -- but there was nothing that could be done now.

Through the living room windows I could see that the clouds were back, it was again snowing, somewhat harder than the previous night. Bug was in the kitchen, as I walked up she put a second cup of coffee on the counter in front of me. She was again wearing the PJ shirt and socks, I couldn't help but notice the top buttons still undone, the sway of her unencumbered breasts as she turned. The same thought from the night before again popped unbidden into my mind: Do you suppose she is wearing any underwear? Once again I mentally kicked myself. Knock it off, you pervert.

"After breakfast I'll go down and check the Suburban just to be sure, but I'm pretty sure I must have left my bag at your house. I remember I went in and took that shower -- but can't for the life of me remember bringing the bag outside again. I must have left it in your room -- that's all I can think of. I figured after I check we can call mom and see if they can run over to your house and check for me. They should be able to bring it up with them tomorrow, don't you think?"

I couldn't help but smile. She may have been disappointed in not having her bag the night before, but her bubbly personality had taken over this morning. She turned back to the stove. "I've got some scrambled eggs and bacon almost done and there's bread in the toaster if you can get that."

"How'd you sleep?" I asked as I headed toward the toaster. It popped up just as I got there; butter and a knife were on the counter next to the toaster, so I took it out and began spreading the butter.

"Ok. I didn't hear a thing until I heard your shower running this morning."

"Thanks for making my bed." I wondered what she'd say.

"No problem." She turned from the stove, an enigmatic smile on her face, two plates of scrambled eggs and bacon in hand.

I told her I'd clean up and had to almost physically kick her out of the kitchen while I did. She headed toward her bedroom to get dressed.

"Oh my God, look!"

I turned and looked. Bug had stopped by the back windows, looking out to where, for the moment, the storm had broken. Stretched out for several miles to the next set of ridges was a totally unbroken expanse of pristine snow. The clouds had lifted and even broken somewhat -- a small patch of blue sky and a ray of sunshine momentarily lighting up the perfect scene. The untrammeled snow glistened as if from the reflection of a million diamonds. I set the dishes down and followed her to the window. "Looks like it's breaking up."

"Perfect timing," she said, "You do the dishes, and we'll go check on my bag."

It took her virtually no time at all to get dressed. She was out by the door putting on her snow suit before I got the last dishes even washed. When I told her I needed to go to the bathroom before I was ready, she said she'd just go and be back by that time. I tried to convince her to wait, but with the self-assured cockiness of youth that had never met adversity she insisted she was perfectly comfortable going down the road by herself. Reluctantly, I relented.

I reminded her that the three or four inches of snow we'd had would make turning just a little different, but if she stayed in the established track she would be just fine. I watched her head off, a bit anxious about her going alone -- but she was just going down the hill to the garage. Granted it was more than two miles -- but she would be back before too long.

Back inside I started the TV and tuned it to The Weather Channel to see how much snow had fallen before finishing up the last few dishes. The local report happened to be up when it came on and confirmed we'd had 4" of new snow overnight, but I left it on as I was interested in what the forecast for the next couple of days was. I just put the last dish in the cupboard when a "BOOM-BA-BOOM-BOOM" of close-in thunder startled me.

Thunder is somewhat unusual in winter, and typically means things are getting nasty. I immediately looked back out the window, the crystal-clear view of before was gone. In less than five minutes the clouds had come back, and the entire valley once again was obscured by lightly falling snow. To the far west, I could see a much denser area of falling snow, and as I watched I realized it was heading our direction. I glanced at my watch -- Bug hadn't been gone very long yet. I wasn't particularly worried but regretted letting her go alone and decided to go on down the trail and meet her coming back.

As I turned back inside, the TV which had been down quite low caught my attention. "...from Flagstaff. Jim?"

"The intense escalation of this storm is being caused by an unexpected increasing high pressure over northern Mexico that is pushing this strong band of tropical moisture northward where it's meeting this intensely cold air mass coming down from the Gulf of Alaska." He was standing in front of a map, indicating the areas each time he said "this."

"The result has been some intense snowfalls that are going to continue for at least the next two days, and rare winter thunderstorms! Here, in Flagstaff, they've received one foot of new snow in the last 6 hours and over 18 inches overnight. Interstate 40 has been closed in both directions through northern Arizona as road crews are unable to keep up..." The background had shifted from Jim Cantore in front of a map to him standing in front of what could have been "Anytown, USA" which was practically obscured by the blizzard conditions behind him and shifted again to shots of cars in ditches and jackknifed trucks and stuck cars, and then again to snowplows running down the highway, then back to a shot of Jim in front of a tally screen where forecasts for the Intermountain West were up. "This is leading to some very interesting statistics. Payson, Arizona has already reached three quarters of the snowfall from the record 1972 blizzard which lasted almost 5 days. The snow has already begun falling hard in Glenwood Springs and Durango, Colorado, with projections now for snowfalls of four to six feet over the next few days...."

It took another five minutes to get my own snow suit back on, the second Polaris started, and the trailer disconnected, and by the time I did the snowfall had exploded with occasional flashes of lightning and ear pounding thunder. The visibility had dropped to practically zero.

I started down the trail anxiously looking for Bug returning, keeping my snowmobile in her track. It was at the last turn at the bottom of the hill where I saw that Bug's track, rather than following around the corner, had strayed to the outside of the curve, outside the previous track from the night before. I could tell where she'd been unable to make the turn, her front end dropping off the road, and stopping where it had become lodged against a small tree.

The snowmobile was just below the edge of the rim, but Bug wasn't. A patch of broken snow about 15 feet further down the steep hill showed where she'd been thrown from her snowmobile and rolled in the deep snow into the bottom of the ravine where she'd apparently broken through the surface ice and snow, landing in the now visible running water below. I realized this stream must be spring fed as there would otherwise have been no runoff. I could see where she'd pulled herself out and trekked up the far side, which was a much gentler slope than the drop off where she'd wrecked. Her track was heading toward the road on the other side of the stream. I jumped back on my snowmobile, continuing down the valley to the bridge which was only about a hundred yards ahead.

Across the bridge I could see where her path had reached the road, but it was obviously very unsteady, wavering from side to side. She'd turned toward the garage, which now was merely another couple of hundred yards around the next bend, but she had never made it. The tracks ended at a blue bundle lying in the middle of the road.

"Bug!" I called as I leapt off the snowmobile. "Bug!" She didn't move, she didn't answer.

Her helmet was still on, the mask that had covered her mouth and nose when she left was pushed down against her chin. Some of her skin, now ashen gray, was visible through the faceplate. "Bug!" I called once again, reaching in to touch her cheek. It was cold, but not frozen. Her eyes came open.

"Jus' need a nap."

"No Bug, you need to get up." I reached down and took her arm; it was stiff with ice. Everything was stiff with ice. I reached up to move the mask back over her mouth and nose, and it too was crackling with ice. It appeared she'd gotten totally soaked, and I immediately realized if I didn't move fast, she was about to die. Boy Scout training immediately kicked in; I took a moment, assessed the situation ... and left her. I got the snowmobile turned around heading back uphill and stopped again next to her.

"Come on Bug, you've got to help me. GET UP!" She slowly began to move to my urging and lifting but rise she did. It was all I could do to get her on the snowmobile, even more to keep her there as I drove us back up the hill. I didn't race, with the now heavily falling snow obscuring visibility I couldn't take a chance on crashing myself or traveling too fast and missing the path.

She couldn't walk when we got there. I couldn't completely pick her up with all the awkward gear on, so I grabbed under her shoulders and drug her into the lodge. Once inside I stopped and began pulling everything off. My helmet and gloves first, followed by her helmet and gloves. Her gloves were icy on the outside, almost frozen solid, but still wet on the inside. I got her boots off; they were filled with ice water. I got the snow suit unzipped, worked her out of it, and although it was covered with ice, it hadn't yet frozen -- another good sign. I kept peeling; everything was wet. When I got to her bra and panties, they came off too. This time I picked her up, carried her naked into the master bedroom where I pulled the covers back, put her in, and then turned the electric blanket on high. Shucking my own clothes, I dropped them in a pile, and when I too was naked, I climbed in beside her.

People have been nearly frozen before and survived. Children have fallen through ice into lakes or streams, actually been unconscious for long periods of time when found and survived. If the skin actually freezes, the cells rupture, gangrene sets in and whatever is frozen will have to be cut off. I didn't know what state Bug was in, the important thing was to get her warm again.

Over the years, the ideas of how to save people that have almost frozen to death have changed. The latest thought is that warming a person too quickly will kill them. The body begins to shut down extremities first, stopping the blood flow to hands and feet and legs-- as keeping the heart and lungs and brain warm is more important. The problem with placing a nearly frozen person into a hot bath or feeding them hot liquids or otherwise warming them too quickly is that it is only the skin that first absorbs the heat. The body, sensing warmth, will again begin to pump blood into the cold flesh beneath the skin, and instead of absorbing the needed warmth, pushes the still icy blood from the extremities into the body core depleting the final store of body heat. The warm core blood cools down faster than the hands and legs and extremities warm up, returning to the heart for another pass, and in seconds, the victim is dead.

Bug's body felt like ice. She wasn't frozen, only nearly so. I guessed another ten minutes and she would have been. I pulled her naked back against my naked chest, my arms wrapping around her, my legs pressing against her, my body warmth going to her -- but to me it felt like her iciness was coming to me. Everywhere my body touched her it immediately got cold. My hands roamed her body, searching for warmth, trying to share my body heat everywhere. I cupped the top of her head; it was the warmest part of her body -- a good sign. A minute, maybe two and I rolled up and over her, pressing my backside and bottom to her front. Her breasts were hard and cold against my back, her nipples hard little pebbles. Again, one, maybe two minutes and I had to roll over and do it again, always trying to keep the blanket over us.

By the time I'd frozen my front side and shifted my back to her, I'd begun shivering. What concerned me was that Bug was not shivering. Her body was well into shutting down permanently. Each time I changed position; the electric blanket felt hotter to my skin. As I warmed her front with my back, the electric blanket was warming my front. When I again shifted behind her, while my front was warming her back side, the electric blanket was warming my backside. Front to back, back to front, again and again. "Come on Bug. Stay with me," I whispered again and again when my face was to her ear.

I kept my hands moving, grabbing the electric blanket for a few moments, then pressing them against her where I couldn't hold her body against me. My feet worked her feet, ice cubes that didn't want to melt. I slipped my hands between her legs; she was icy at her knees but only cold by the time I reached her crotch. I concentrated lower, slipping a warm leg between her two cold ones. I rolled her over, letting the electric blanket that had been on her left side be on her right side.

The whole time I was continually talking to her, urging her to stay with me, telling her I'd get her warm again, and telling her I loved her. It was maybe twenty minutes of moving back and forth when a shudder ran through her body. A moment later her shoulders twitched, her back convulsed, and she pulled back into herself again. It wasn't until about the third time that I realized that instead of dying -- she had once again begun to shiver. "That's it baby, come back to me." I was behind her at the time, her back against my front. I wrapped my upper arm over her, my lower arm under her in the crook of her neck. She was now shivering constantly. I just held her.

My hands would get cold pressing against her body, so I'd take a handful of electric blanket to warm my hands before once again putting them on her to find another cold spot. As she'd begun shivering, I'd slowed my front to back rotations allowing her to absorb more and more heat from the blanket itself. I grabbed a fist full of the electric blanket one more time; when my hands were once again warm, this time, with my arm wrapped over her, my hand naturally rested on her breast. While I hadn't been ignoring her breasts, I hadn't paid any more attention to them than I had any other part of her body. But this time, when my hand came to rest, I just held it there -- and noticed the strangest sensation.

Her nipple felt like it melted in my hand.

The first time I touched her breast it had been icy cold, each time after, it had been a little warmer. But this time, although it was still cold, I felt her erect nipple pull back into her breast, giving my hand the sensation that it had melted away. I brought my other hand, which had still been warming on the electric blanket, up to her other breast where the same phenomenon occurred. Something about her physiological response told me she was going to be OK. Not the shivering, which was now continuous, but her nipple melting in my palm.

I held her backside to me until I was too cold, but the longer period had allowed my back side to get even warmer. When I rolled over her again, placing my back to her front, this time she responded, pulling herself against me. Her shivering was still continuous, and she was warming up rapidly -- but hopefully not too rapidly. Somehow, I knew she was over the hump.

The next time I switched positions so I was behind her, she totally pushed back into me. I wrapped my arm over her, my hands gripping her arm, slowly moving down, finding a colder spot and doing it again. I released her arm, gripping the electric blanket for a few moments before I slid my hand completely over her again to her chest. Her hand came up, gripped over the top of mine, holding my hand in place against her breast. When I went to move, her grip tightened, holding me -- holding my hand - in place.

From the time I'd found her curled in the trail, not a single sexual thought had entered my mind. I'd stripped her naked, touched her entire body. I'd touched her where only a lover or a doctor would have. I now knew she shaved her pussy, keeping it naked, all except for a little strip above in the fashion of today. I'd touched that pussy, cupped her mound, touched her pussy lips and felt the warmth behind them. I'd pressed my entire naked body to hers; my penis had rested against those succulent globes of her ass several times, without even a hint of becoming erect. I'd felt her nipples melt to my touch; but never had I gotten any arousal out of it. Not once had my cock even twinged to this delectable prize in my grasp. And it still didn't. Lying there naked, feeling my niece warming to my touch was the most rewarding, non-sexual, naked experience of my life.

When she'd started shivering again, it had been convulsive at first. But as she warmed, the hard convulsions turned into steady, continuous - but not as strong - vibrations throughout her entire body. As we lay there, I could feel the shivering slowing, both our bodies warming. I began to relax, and whether it was her first or me, we both fell asleep.