The Matterhorn Ice Runner

"When you didn't arrive at the predetermined time, we started hiking towards you right away. We came barely in the nick of time," replied the tall Italian. He had something suave to his voice. There was something rolling in the resonance.

The movement stopped. The two were dangling dead stopped suspended from a 300 foot rope. The wind, which had picked up, was blowing them around. The metal sled softly bumped against the rocks. Cleo's skin had returned enough senses to feel the man was pretty hairy behind her. His hairy chest hair was rubbing against her bare back. It felt like time had passed. Cleo sensed that the wind was picking up. Each time they reached the bump on the farthest left swing, it seemed like they were swinging a little wilder. The sky had turned harrowingly dark gray.

The chubby man arrived at the bottom of the rope. He quickly busied himself in pulling the sled onto a ledge to set it down horizontally. Cleo heard a heavy metal door opening behind her head. The chubby man unzipped the sleeping back. A gust of ice cold wind shot over Cleo's nude body. The cutting cold made Cleo realize how much she had warmed up. The tall lad behind her got up. They grabbed her on both sides and carried her a few steps. The ledge was barely as large as the metal sled. Behind it, there was an old iron door. They went inside.

Inside the rock was a little room, just enough space for a bunk bed and a chest. There were no windows. It was carved into the hardest rock. With the most painstaking metal pick work, every inch had cost a lot of sweat. It was dark inside. Cleo was put into the lower bunk bed. The sleeping bag was wrapped around her. The tall man spooned her tightly from behind again. The zipper to the sleeping back was zipped up again. They were both trapped. The emergency shelter was as cold as outside, yet wind still. The chubby man turned on a lantern and disappeared into the squeaking top bunk.

"How are you feeling," asked the tall lad.

"I'm feeling better. Thank you," replied Cleo. There was a melody in her voice again. She put a little smile into her words as polite, social conversation expected.

"I'm Massimo. And that up there is Tito," said the tall man.

"I'm Cleo," said Cleo.

"I know," said Massimo. "We all saw your pictures. You have a very hot body. I only wish, we'd met you under better circumstances, so that I could have bought you a drink." They both laughed.

"You know in America, we'd call that sexual harassment. Though, we are on the Italian border. I'll let it slide," replied Cleo.

"Oh, you Americanos," replied Massimo. "This is my last winter on the mountain. After high school, I didn't know what to do. Getting paid for being on the mountain seemed like getting paid for having fun. Though, there is a lot of time to think up here. I realized that I needed to build a future. In spring, I'll go to Barcelona to study political science. What do you do?"

"I work in marketing for a fashion label in Miami," replied Cleo. "My real passion is in running. My goal is to run a marathon in every American state."

They talked for a little while. Cleo could feel the air in the small room being modified by the three humans. She could smell the scent of bodies. The air wasn't that cold anymore. There was humidity from their breath. The CO2 seemed to increase from the lack of circulation. She was watching the flickering of the light and the uneven shadows that it created in the wall with claw marks of the metal pick. The room started feeling cozy and familiar. She started feeling a little drowsy and sleepy. A little pause for thought before responding had turned into a little slumber.

When she came, she had a burning, pinging pain in her bladder. She tried to ignore it. She tried to go back to sleep and forget. And she couldn't hold it in. She burst out, "I need to pee." The words cut into the dark room. Two sleeping man stirred. They thought befuddled.

"There is no bathroom," said the guy on top. "We usually walk out and be."

"Tough luck, I can't walk," said Cleo with a sassy voice that even surprised her.

The chubby man slid down the top bunk. He opened the heavy iron door a peek. A sharp gust came in. The storm was howling outside. A flash of lightning lit up the whole room. Snowflakes whirled inside. The night outside was pitch black. The chubby man looked stunned and helpless.

"I guess we gotta do it," he said slowly, while searching for another recourse.

The chubby man, zipped open the sleeping bag zipper. The naked couple was exposed. Massimo climbed out of the bunk. His penis was dangling in the air. Cleo was aware of her nakedness. The half-light of the lantern hid her blemishes and made her look sexier.

They both grabbed her by the side. Each grabbed one arm and one leg. In a close, huddle, they carried her towards the door. Once they stepped through the door, the weather was tearing on them like a dog yanking around a chew toy. They stepped onto the little ledge. They lifted Cleo's naked butt over the abyss, like an offering raised up to the gods. The hot piss shot out of her into the vanishing depth - a big golden circle. The wind quickly whipped the stream around. As the pressure ran out, a drizzle ran down from her pussy in between the butt cheeks and over her asshole.

"Could you wipe?" asked Cleo feeling disgusted with the piss in between her ass cheeks.

Tito shook his head. The two man backed up from the abyss as little bit. Tito grabbed a handful of fresh snow and whipped it liberally over her pussy and ass. The snow surface softly melted into wet water. Her pussy lips turned even pinker with the cool snow there. Tito tossed the leftover dirty snow clump down into the abyss, where it went tumbling out of sight.

The trio hurriedly shuffled back inside. Tito wiped the wet off Cleo's body. Then, Massimo and Cleo got wrapped up tightly in the sleeping back again. Cleo didn't really need to be reheated anymore. However, as cold as the mountain was, she was glad for the warmth. There was a constant cold on the front of her body, because even a down goose sleeping back had trouble fighting the cold. She only felt cozy on her back. And she had to make it through a whole night.

Exhaustion made sleep come quickly. They say that a fracture is a whole body injury. The whole body is struggling to heal. A warm, cozy dream came over her. There were orange shapes moving. She was telling her trainer Killroy about how she was eating more bananas for her potassium. It felt like a sunny, warm day in Miami. And then she drifted back to consciousness. She felt the warm body of Massimo snuggling against her. As they both had relaxed into sleeping, letting go of conscious composure, they had casually cuddled into each other. He had nestled his cheek into the nape of her neck. She could feel him breathing deeply and slowly into her neck. His hand readjusted on her belly to hold her a little higher. He was holding her like a stuffed cuddle animal, snuggling deeper.

Then, she became aware of why she had woken up so sharply. Her mind had to sort through all the sensations to realize that his erection was pressing against her butt cheek - hard and strong. It wasn't his fault. He was sleeping. "Massimo," she whispered.

"Is everything okay," asked Tito from the top bunk.

"Everything is okay," whispered Cleo back, trying to be discrete.

She counted. She swore that at one hundred, she would say something again to rouse Massimo. When she reached 95, Tito was still stirring as if awake. She decided to be quiet. Her hand tried to tap on Massimo, which was very hard, because the sleeping bag was so tight. Massimo stirred in his sleep a little. The hard tip moved a little and got stuck between her butt cheeks. It was so vividly there. Cleo could feel it with the utmost detail. She hadn't been with a man in a couple years. She had been too busy trying. It was a foreign and alarming sensation. It was hard, so hard.

Her mind kept trailing over every bit of her skin between her butt cheeks where she could feel the cock. Massimo's skin felt very smooth. She noticed that with every inhale, his belly was pressing against her back. And the cock drifted imperceptibly forward in her butt crack. She started synchronizing her breath. She started taking deeper breath to make the penis travel just a little bit more. It was the concerted effort of working together that kind of drove her on in a mindless, sleepless, and hazy way.

A sudden movement got her pushing her butt against him. It was like a reflexive twitch, like a pretension of a natural movement. It got the penis deeper between her butt cheeks. She could feel her taut bubble butt cheeks gripping around the whole penis head now. She was shocked at herself of having the subliminal urge to feel more of the dick and struggling to keep of civil modesty.

Her butt twitched. She could feel her grip on the penis head. She did it again, pretending like something had itched her. Yet, she gripped a little harder. Massimo didn't rouse. It felt good. There was something instinctive and deeply biological that made it a hard penis feel so good.

Massimo's breath was still even and deep. He was deeply asleep. Cleo pretended to itch her belly, so that she could incidentally push her butt closer to Massimo's penis. Now, his penis head was hovering near her asshole. She was so excited about the new sensation she felt. And she was scared about being caught. What on earth was she doing? Was she driven by a she-devil?

She was synchronizing her breathing again to his. So that every time, he moved his penis a little forward with the exhale, her inhale would drive her butt a little back. She exaggerated each inhale more to the point where her belly was bursting for she could almost, so barely almost, get his penis head to touch her pucker. She got a little carried away in focusing on his penis head that she was startled when Massimo suddenly moved.

He mumbled a little, rubbed his nose on her neck, and went back to slumber. "It was only a dream," she told herself. She felt breathless from all the breathing exercises she had been doing and the panic of almost getting caught. She let his penis passively move that imperceptible bit around in between her butt cheeks.

It felt so tempting good. There were so many nerve endings down there which wanted to feel his penis. With surprise, she realized how wet she was. She had been so focused on his penis that her own wetness had snug up on her. An inch from her pussy was a cock. In a distance of human relations, they were miles apart in a professional rescue situation and not even friends. In physical distance, all she had to do was pull her butt down and she'd swallow that cock - oh that slipper fish disappearing inside of her. Maybe, he'd never even wake up. Maybe, he'd simply have a wet dream to go along with it and wake up the next morning refreshed and not knowing.

Cleo pretended to scratch her belly again. She pretended that her hand was stuck in the way up. The sleeping bag wouldn't let her bend the elbow. And she scooted down. She didn't have real leverage. So, it was a really messy scoot. She didn't know where the penis head would land. And it landed on the outside of her vagina. It landed on between her lips. She could feel her wetness was touching him. He was like a loaded gun with semen. She was on the pill.

She had to feel what his penis head would feel like rubbing against her. If she did only one stroke, he wouldn't have enough time to wake up and realize what had happened. Yes, she would get along with gliding his penis along her outside once. So, she did it. It felt delicious. Then, she held her breath. Was he waking up?

Okay, he hasn't woken up. So, she could still do one stroke, she reasoned. "I have to get the penis head up to my clit," she thought to herself. She waited, holding her breath to hear if he was still deeply sleeping. Five breaths of his, and she went for a dive, gliding the penis head up on the outside of her vagina. The penis head dipped her clitoris. She stopped and let it slide back. Then, she held her breath again. Was he waking up? He was till evenly breathing.

She couldn't stop herself. She stole another upstroke. And each time, she pressed her clitoris a little more on him. She waited less for his breathing to make sure that he was sleeping. He was sleeping deeply.

She ended up in a slow rhythm rubbing herself on him. Each down stroke, when the penis was closest to her opening, she was tempted. How would it feel to take him in? And she started bargaining with herself - just the tip - just for a second. The upstrokes to her clitoris felt so good. And the down strokes to her opening were full of question. And then she did it, she sucked in his penis head. Reflexively, her vagina muscles squeezed around it. She paused in terror. He'd wake up from that for sure. She froze breathlessly without thought like a lamb anticipating the slaughter.

"Madonna," Massimo mumbled in his sleep. His body wanted to turn out of habit. The tight sleeping back kept him in place. All Cleo could focus on was the penis head incidentally moving inside of her opening. It felt so good. Cleo was slick wet at full arousal.

The arousal blinded any reason in her. She scooted her body down to dip the penis deeply inside of her belly. It was wet inside of her. His hard penis stretched her out. She could feel the g-stop being touched. She could feel the penis head pressing against her cervix.

She took long strokes. She was stretching hard against the sleeping back to move enough. His bareback dick was riding inside of her. She was pressing her round bubble butt against her hips to take him in fully. In frenzy and abandon, she fucked him under the sleeping back. She tried to keep the movement noise down to avoid waking Tito. Yet, feverishly, she was itching her itch.

And then his penis twitched inside of her. She thought, "Oh, shit" for one moment as she realized what she had done. The next moment, hot jizz was shooting into her womb. The realization of the evidence made her pass the lusty moment and let reason return. She lowered her hand to her clit and fingered herself with swift circles to the orgasm that needed to be released. And she passed out from all the horniness.

The next morning, there was awkwardness. The sleeping bag was wet between them.

"Mi scusi," stammered Massimo right after waking, "mi scusi."

A blushing Cleo pleased, "No, it's me. I got real wet."

"What's going on?" Tito piled in.

And both in the bottom bunk replied, "Nothing. Go back to sleep." Neither wanted to let Tito know what had happened.

With the first light, a helicopter arrived. Or, more precisely, a metal rope appeared hovering in the air. Cleo was attached to it inside of the sled. The winch raised Cleo up. Cleo was lifted into the helicopter. The helicopter turned near 45 degrees to disappear down into the valley. The Swiss Air Force pilot didn't bother toning down his flying style for a civilian. Only the air force was cleared for flying in the still heavy weather. Down in the clinic, Cleo got a cast. Her fans wrote her lots of well wishes on the cast. Cleo mailed her two rescuers a photo of herself with a thank you note.