A young man of 27 sits by his fireplace in a quaint ski-lodge far up in the mountains. The lifts have fallen into disrepair this year, so there are no customers even in this busy season. He does not really want to see anyone right now anyway, because coming up is the first anniversary of his wife's death. The memories of that event still haunt him.
It was ruled an accident, but he could not think of it that way. The couple had been arguing about something that seemed stupid now. She just wanted her mother to have use of one of the unused rooms in the lodge until a reservation for it came in, but he had been loathe to have to "serve" her mother like he had been forced to in the past.
In the course of the argument, he had yelled something incoherent, and she had turned away from him, furious, at which point she slipped on an icy rock beneath the fresh, shallow layer of snow. She then hit her head hard on a tree, and went tumbling down the hill, which resulted in her breaking her neck. This had happened last Christmas Eve.
The images of that scene replayed in his head, over and over again. He knew he had to get out and do something or it would drive him crazy, but the energy just was not there. If only he had customers, at least he could keep his mind off of it, performing his practiced duties without much effort. A week before Christmas, this place would have been bustling, but nobody wanted to visit an isolated ski lodge with no way to ski.
As 6 p.m. rolled around, he started cooking dinner for himself. He had cooked too much food and was going to end up eating lasagna for days now. This had become fairly common since his wife's death, and was getting worse with the busy season starting and nobody else to share the food with.
Right as he was finishing up preparing, he heard a curious sound. It was the sound of a bell. More specifically, it was the old bell that had been hung by the front door of the lodge. There were no neighbors for tens of miles, so it would have to be a utility worker or surveyor, and yet it was too late in the day for either to be coming around. Driven by curiosity, he opened the door.
"Hello, is this the Hardin Ridge Lodge?" a young, pale, but spritely woman asked on the other side of the door.
"Yes, I'm Michael Hardin. I'm the co-proprietor...actually, proprietor of this place now. How can I help you?" he responded courteously.
"I was wondering if you had any rooms available for the next week or so. Can you fit me in?" her head gave a little cock to the side that reminded him a lot of one of his wife's funny little gestures.
"You can have the run of the place if you want. We're empty right now. Lifts are broken. There should be signs about it everywhere on your way up here." he replied, a little more brusquely.
"Ah, great! Can I come in?" she asked, satisfied with his response.
"Sure, of course. Dinner just came out of the oven. Is it just you or will your family or lover be joining you?" he asked, slipping back into his business mode.
"Just me. No family or lovers to speak of. That's just how things are for me." she said, without a hint of sadness behind it.
"I see. In that case, I'll set places for two. If you don't mind sharing a table with me, I've not really kept up with the world outside. Some catching up is in order, I suppose." he suggested.
She nodded back in affirmation, and he set places for two at one of the small, hand-crafted wooden tables that his wife picked out for its "intimate charm" factor. They had cost him a lot of money, so he tried to get a lot of use out of them when there were small parties dining there. A pair of plates, each with a piece of lasagna was placed on the table, followed by flatware sets rolled in cloth napkins and water glasses. Next came a pair of empty wine glasses and a wine bottle sitting in an ice bucket.
As he finished setting the table and uncorked the wine, he said, "The wine will be on the house. I was supposed to drink it almost a year ago now, but I've never been crazy enough about the stuff to drink it alone. By the way, I didn't catch your name, Miss..."
"Oh, umm...Amanda!" she replied a little awkwardly.
"Amanda...is that a first or last name?" he asked, scratching his head a little at the odd reaction.
"Its my name. Is there a difference?" she looked at him again with that funny quizzical expression.
"Ah, forget about it. As long as you don't mind me calling you Amanda, then we will leave it at that," he responded in a somewhat defeated tone.
"Oh, sure! I'll try to respond appropriately!" she responded with a little too much energy.
He poured the wine and they both sat down to dinner. His hopes of striking up any sort of small talk were dashed as he watched Amanda attack her food with a relentless fervor. Meanwhile, he tried to eat slowly and enjoy the meal and the wine, but something he did not expect interrupted his relaxing meal. With her food finished, Amanda proceeded to drink down her water glass, and then her wine far too quickly.
It should not have been enough wine to get her drunk normally, but the way she chugged it caused it to enter her system far too quickly, so when she attempted to stand after finishing her meal, she collapsed, just barely managing to catch herself before she hit the floor.
"Whew, I've never had that happen before!" she giggled.
"Alright just stay put a second and I'll get you to a room. I'm not one to judge, but you really should be more careful about how you drink. You don't look like you'd be able to hold it well with your figure," he spoke, softly but a little patronizing.
"Alright, I'll wait. Why is it so hot in here?" she asked curiously.
"Well the fire is going, but I think its just the wine in your case. You aren't going to melt or anything and it'll be cooler in your room if you want to leave the heater off."
Michael scooped her slender form off of the floor and carried her to the closest guest room. He set her down gently on the bed and turned back to grab her luggage, but then could not remember her bringing any in. He glanced back over at the bed, and his drunken patron had unbuttoned her knit jacket, panting slowly while laying on her back. She did not look like she was about to get sick or pass out, so Michael figured this was a good time to ask about it.
"Where can I find your bags, Amanda?" he asked.
"Bags? Oh like luggage. I don't have any." she responded curtly.
Redirecting the query, he then asked, "How about a change of clothes?"
"Nope. These are all I have," she responded shortly again.
"I guess there are some circumstances there. I won't pry into them. I think you might fit okay in some of my wife's clothes so let me find some things for you to change into. With how you're sweating right now, you'll want a shower and some clean clothes in the morning." he stated, even as he left the room.
Arriving in his own bedroom, he opened up the wardrobe that had remained undisturbed for nearly a year. The clothes within hit him with a wave of nostalgia, but he washed it down quickly as he focused on the task at hand. He had not sized her up with any detail, but she did seem to be smaller overall than his wife had been.
He picked out a few matching sets of underwear, hoping they were sized closely enough, and picked out some more forgiving dresses that were unlikely to just fall off. He then carried his selections back into the guest room, where the woman had managed to finish prying off her coat and jeans, laying slovenly on the bed in just a white blouse and white satin panties as she dozed.
His eyes were drawn to her very pale, slender legs for a few moments, entranced as they worked their way up towards her crotch. He then took note of the mounds beneath the blouse, now realizing they were probably a little larger than his wife's had been, but it was hard to tell for sure through a blouse and bra. One pale white arm hung off the side of the bed carelessly, with the other framing her beautiful, delicate face, resting on the splayed bed of long, jet black hair. Her cheeks puffed out just a little with a slight blush and her thick, pink lips formed a pout. Her nostrils flared rhythmically as she breathed slowly, and Michael recalled those bright, blue eyes he knew were hiding behind her closed lids.
About the time he realized how enticed he had become, his cock now making a noticeable tent in his jeans, he decided to just hang the dresses and set the rest on the dresser before she woke up and thought him a pervert. He cleaned up after dinner and retired early for the night.
Sometime in the middle of the night, he was awakened by the creaking sound of his bedroom door opening. Standing in it was the silhouette of his dead wife, wearing one of her favorite dresses. After a few moments, the grogginess wore off and he recalled loaning that dress to Amanda, so he sat up in his bed and lit a pair of candles.
"Do you need something, Amanda?" he asked, a bit out-of-sorts.
"Michael, its me. 'Amanda' here is just helping me out for a while." she replied, somewhat distant.
"Huh?!" he replied, justifiably confused.
"Amanda is asleep right now. That's why I'm able to talk to you like this right now. It is me, Nora," she responded slowly and gently.
"Nora? That's crazy! I watched her tumble down the hill, saw the life drain out of her eyes...no, this isn't appropriate, even as a joke," he snapped back.
"But Michael...you remember I used to tell you there was a Snow Elf living around here? I was good friends with her for years, even though you never seemed to believe she existed. That Snow Elf is Amanda. I've been waiting for months for winter to return so I could tell you this, but I don't blame you for any of it. Stand up and move on with your life. You've cried more than enough for me, and I can't stand to see you beat yourself up anymore."
"You talk like Nora, but what is this Snow Elf nonsense? That's just some romantic tale Nora used to tell me to keep amused while living way out here with no television or neighbors. She always said I couldn't meet the Snow Elf because her eyes would draw any man into a spell, and that she would become irresistible to him," he replied, defiantly.
"That is the other part of the message. I sent Amanda here not only to forgive you, but to help you move on. She must like you to have taken a name for herself just for your sake. Not once did she offer me a name to call her by in the years I knew her, but here she is, and she has taken to you so quickly!" she responded.
"Okay, lets just say this isn't some weird dream for a second. Why would you send me another woman, Nora?" Michael asked.
"It is very hard for Amanda to keep me in this world, and her powers will be gone come springtime. She had been very lonely before I met her, and I want the both of you to be happy. What better way than for you to be happy together? I...have to go. You won't need me anymore. Take care of Amanda for me. This is my last selfish request. Goodbye, Michael, my love," she trailed off as she slowly crumpled to the floor.
There was a light gasp, and then her eyes opened again. They were looking straight at me. I lost all the tension in my body as she propped up on her hands and knees in the white summer dress that almost looked like a nightgown. It was hard to tell in the dim candlelight where the border between the dress and the pale flesh was as she approached the bed.
"Did you talk to her alright?" Amanda asked.
"Yes...If its all true then everything is settled. If it is true." he replied.
"Then it is my turn to fulfill my promise," she said determinedly as she climbed up onto the bed.
Michael could not move to resist, even if he had been inclined to. He simply sat there, staring at her body, and then back into her radiant blue eyes which now seemed to glow. The sheet was drawn back, first revealing his muscular chest, toned from years of chopping and carrying firewood, and then the bulge in his boxers came into view. Amanda's eyes were drawn to that bulge, as her slender, icy fingers reached out to release it from its confines. There was a bit of hesitation at first, and then, sitting near the foot of the bed, she leaned forward, her nails digging underneath the elastic waistband, drawing the boxers down his legs until they were freed from his body.
In the place of the bulge was now a large, erect cock, almost as thick as Amanda's slender wrists, but glowing red and covered in noticeably bulging veins. It looked monstrous and scary to Amanda, yet held a strange appeal she did not understand. It was the nature of her kind to seduce men to fulfill her desires, but she had never been with one. Living in such a secluded area and befriending the only male resident's wife had limited her opportunities, and she was a little shy by nature. There had been times where she had wanted to take one of the patrons as her own, but she never quite worked up the nerve.
Her embarrassment withered away and was replaced by lust as her thick, pale pink lips came to rest over the tip of Michael's cock. Her tongue teased his urethra, before darting about to moisten the rest of his flesh, allowing her lips to slide smoothly down the shaft. A strange, thick liquid seeped from the tip, indicating Michael's enjoyment of the sensation as one hand held his shaft in place and the other moved to tease his balls.
Small pricks of pain hit Michael as Amanda's long nails accidentally dug into the sensitive flesh near the base of his shaft, but combined with the loving traces of her tongue along the nerve on the underside of his cock as it fucked her mouth, the overall sensation had become erratic, tending more towards pleasure than discomfort.
Michael's breathing rate increased to a heavy pant as the irregular rhythm of pleasure and pricks turned him on even more. Still unable to move, he could only sit there and enjoy the experience as this delicate nymph fulfilled her role. He would not have imagined at this point that she had never done this before, and he could not bring himself to care if this was an elaborate hoax. The fact of the matter was that he wanted nothing more than to violate this delicate winter flower in any way he could. Such was the power that she held over him, combined with his pent-up loneliness and desires.
The jet black hair trailing the entire length of Amanda's back bounced with the bobbing motion of her head, and each rise and fall would displace a few more strands than had been before until he could no longer make out her eyes. The image filled in by his mind of what was behind the hair then took over, as he imagined passionate, pleading faces on this innocent-looking girl. These thoughts raced through his mind as his rod heated up. Unprepared for what was coming, Amanda continued as she had been.
Michael's cock erupted. The first spurt filled Amanda's mouth right as she was exhaling, and ended up choking her a bit as the second spurt forced semen to seep out from her nostrils. Amanda managed to close her airways and throat before the third spurt, which leaked out of the sides of her mouth, dribbling down her chin and soiling her pure white dress as it dripped down onto her chest. She looked a miserable sight for a moment as she eased the shrinking cock from her mouth, coughing and choking as soon as it was free. She felt excited now, but more than a little drained from the surprise of it. Flopping over on her side, her breathing started to even out and slow.
About this time, Michael regained control of himself. He felt endeared to this woman who had done all of that for him without complaining even once, but he still held a strong desire to violate her. Even before his vitality fully returned, he spread her legs and pulled down her innocent white panties. Beneath them, her fluids glistened in the pale candlelight. She was certainly wet enough to receive him, so he wasted no time in pressing the head of his now-fully-erect cock to her entrance. After giving it a few false starts to help ensure the tip would be lubricated enough, he pushed inside.
A short ways in, he felt a resistance. For the first time, he worried about what he was doing, but those worries quickly abated as Amanda sensed his hesitation and took over. She pushed him down onto his back and straddled his cock. A pained grimace came across her face as she speared herself on his rod, breaking quickly and painfully past the resistance with the aid of her own weight and gravity. Neither one moved right away.
A small stream of tears rolled down both of Amanda's cheeks, just as the blood seeped from her crotch. She slipped the summer dress off, going up and over her head, then tossed it aside, worried that it might get stained. She knew that had been a favorite of Nora's, so she felt she had to protect it.
Michael took a detailed survey of the rest of Amanda's body. He was now buried deep inside of her, and a bulge could be seen all the way up into her belly due to her overly-slender build. Her skin was as pale as the moonlight with an almost artificial quality to it, and her ample breasts stood out as firm, well-shaped grapefruit-sized mounds terminating in subtle pink tips. They were quite noticeably larger than his wife's had been on close inspection, which explained why she had not been wearing a bra.
Michael's hands stretched out towards the fresh, young mounds and gave them a firm squeeze. There was a small yelp in response to that, so he decided to tease her nipples with his fingertips until their peaks hardened into small, firm pencil-eraser-like protrusions, only slightly reddening with his attention. This was answered by soft, pleasant moans instead, approving his continued ministrations. The pleasure from her nipples made Amanda forget why she had stopped her hips, as she leaned forward and started pounding their bodies together in short strokes.
The wet, sticky sounds filled the room, emanating at first from their point of union, followed by a dance of tongues that occurred at awkward intervals. Her smaller stature meant she could only reach his lips when he was not buried all the way inside, but she could not choose one sensation over the other, instead alternating between both. She would sometimes nibble on his lip, other times her tongue would invade his mouth. There was no pattern aside from that of the rhythmical pumping it was all timed with.
She started pushing down harder into his chest, letting her nipples roll across his rib cage. No longer reaching his lips, she switched to a slow stirring motion that let her feel his cock churning up her insides. Drool seeped from her gaping mouth, landing on his upper-chest as her moaning increased steadily in volume. Michael reached behind her and grabbed her small, round ass, and simultaneously spread it apart and used it as leverage to push even deeper inside as he stirred her up. A fingertip then probed around and found the entrance to her asshole, which it then pressed lightly upon. That sent sharp thrills throughout Amanda's body with a sensation she had never even imagined before.
Michael found he could not hold out much longer. Had he not cum once already, he might have lost the battle a while ago, but Amanda's adorable and sexy reactions pushed him over the edge. As he pulled her ass even harder against him, he sunk his finger into her anus up to the first knuckle and started grinding perpendicular to the direction she had been moving in. Her moans changed to short, climbing tones as Michael caved. Amanda trembled and shuttered violently, her pussy clamping down hard on Michael's cock, trying to milk it, rather successfully, as he shot his heavy load into her depths. Her pussy continued to milk him, even after his fourth strong spurt, which was already leaking out in a pink mixture with her blood. He finished with a couple of weaker spurts, as Amanda let her upper body collapse into his chest, panting.