Snow Globe

The first week of our winter vacation had gone perfectly. The mid-winter break from the city felt like just what we'd needed. Winter at home is typically a grey, wet slog of sleet and slush, but as we drove up the long driveway leading to the remote mountain cabin, a picturesque coating of snow glistened under the bright midday sun in a scene of postcard perfection.

"It looks like something you'd buy in a souvenir shop! Like standing inside a snow globe!" John marveled upon arrival, dawdling next to the passenger door as I lugged our suitcases up the front walk.

I don't know if it was the fresh mountain air or the freedom of vacation, but my libido had been insatiable since our arrival. Every night as John turned off the light, I attacked him, forcing my mouth and pussy onto his cock and moaning in mile-high ecstasy in our mountain retreat. I simply wouldn't take 'no' for an answer those first few nights. For his part, John not only answered my demands that first week, but elevated his own stamina as we shook the bed in our rental. Maybe it was the elevation.

At the end of the first week, my parents flew in and drove to our rented house, remarking on its scenic beauty but noting (with a parental tenor) how isolated it was in the event of an emergency. Their presence did little to suppress my sex drive, but despite my insistence that the guest bedroom at the far end of the house was out of earshot, John's shyness won out and my lust was left unmet.

My parents stayed with us for a long weekend, and while it was a lovely visit, John and I breathed a mutual sigh of relief on Monday morning when they left to catch a flight home. However, in the newly empty house, his willingness to respond to me now hit the familiar barrier of his work stress. The next day John was leaving for a six-day trip to Florida consisting of meetings through Friday, then conveniently transitioned into a long weekend rendezvous with his own parents.

While he was away, I would remain at our vacation house. He was slated to fly back next week, and we'd have another five days together here. It had been a hectic autumn and the prospect of a week alone in the wilderness - or, rather, in a beautiful house packed with modern amenities with no other homes in sight - sounded like an ideal chance to unplug from work and the news to catch my breath. I hoped when John returned, we'd be able to recapture the passion with which we'd started our trip. Tuesday, as I watched him pull down the driveway in our rental car, a couple fat snowflakes drifted lazily in the morning breeze.

I hated admitting when my mom was right, but the next morning I would have been forced to confess that the cabin felt pretty goddamn isolated with a half foot of fresh snow on the ground - and mounting! I knew I was safe in the house, a pantry stocked with food and the heat pump chugging along at a steady sixty-nine degrees. Still, I instinctively pulled the hood of my sweatshirt over my head as I stared out at the remote vacation property-turned desolate tundra. The idea of having someone here with me as the mountain roads choked with snow - John, or my sometimes-problematic friend Mallori, even my mom - was suddenly appealing.

A vacation in the mountains had been John's idea. I had lobbied for a SoCal beach house - or better yet, Mexico! But he had pointed out that would limit my parents' visit, and this was more convenient for his intervening work trip. So, I'd relented and gone along with his plan. Now the front yard and drive were a featureless sheet of white powder and John was on a beach in Florida.

I debated if I should try to get to the nearest town, but I didn't know the terrain, nor how to ski or snowshoe. The house had a Polaris snow mobile in the garage, but I didn't dare take that out; I had no idea how to drive that thing or what condition it was in, stored under its sheet. Anyway, this wasn't The Shining, it was just a lot of snow. I perused the home's streaming services, then decided to settle in with a book and a cup of tea. Cozy Sarah was going to ride out the storm in peace and quiet.

The house lost power sometime in the early hours of Thursday morning. My chattering teeth woke me up, informing me the heat was off. I tended to sleep hot, so I was wearing only a pair of rainbow-striped panties and a laundry-thinned tee shirt from a long-ago rafting trip. The wind howled outside, clattering the windowpanes with ice crystals. I shivered and tugged the quilt up to my neck, curling into a warm ball to try to get back to sleep.

By late afternoon of the first day without power, the temperature in the house had plunged. I roamed the rooms, piled under layers of hoodies and waffle knit base layers. I even wore two pairs of socks inside my furry slippers. A growing concern though was that the house's pipes might freeze; I didn't have a temperature reading but my stiffening knuckles evinced the sinking cold. The house had a wood burning stove in the living room, but only a few scraps of wood in the copper bin beside it.

I reflected with irritation that I had raised the issue of collecting firewood in the comparably balmy days after our arrival. John had waved off the idea, insisting that with the house's top of the line HVAC system we would never need it. Even the idea of lighting a romantic fire - and my suggestion of some rustic, fireside lovemaking - hadn't seemed worth the effort to him. Hauling and chopping wood, bringing the fuel inside, lighting a fire: none of those had appealed to John as novelties, but now as I stared at the ongoing blizzard, they were looming as a dangerously procrastinated necessity.

That night I slept in two sweatshirts, curled into a ball with a herd of blankets piled on the bed.

Friday morning, the storm showed no sign of relenting. My phone had drained into a brick of dead black glass hours ago, and even while it was alive my signal had been useless. I burned the scant fuel beside the stove around lunchtime (I estimated, though with the thick clouds and whirling snow time of day was difficult to tell), heating a kettle of water for tea and oatmeal. The embers of the last log in the stove dulled from orange to gray as night fell. It was going to be another cold, dark night.

I fell asleep on the couch just after dusk, burrowed in a nest of blankets and sweatshirts. I awoke with a shivering jolt as an intensified burst of wind rattled the frame of the cabin. The fire in the stove was dead; the temperature in the house was plummeting critically. Regardless of the storm, I needed a fire, or I risked damaging the home's plumbing, not to mention my increasingly hypothermic body.

I pulled the thickest pair of gray sweatpants I could find over my green cotton panties. I stacked layers of long underwear beneath a hoodie and then added my ski jacket. I covered my head in a beanie, slipped my feet into John's snow boots, and grabbed a flashlight in one gloved hand and a handsaw in the other. Equipped as best I could manage; I walked out the rear door into the storm.

The backyard was edged by a ring of tall pines whose trunks rose limbless above my reach. Landscapers had cleared the yard of fallen branches before our arrival. Rugged forest stretched beyond the property line. I hoped that I could harvest some downed limbs there. Casting a cautious glance over my shoulder at the darkened house, I followed the weak circle of my flashlight beam into the woods.

Beyond the tree line, the intensity of the wind-blown snow did not abate, and my visibility was slashed. Snowdrifts spilled over the tops of my oversized boots, soaking through my double layer of socks as I plodded unsteadily forward. The deep snow had buried any fallen branches, so I squinted through the gale and scanned the trees for low-hanging dead growth I could break for fuel.

I didn't know how far I had trudged, but when I looked behind me, I saw only blank, dark forest. The blowing snow had filled in my footprints almost instantly as I waddled through the drifts. I thought I'd walked in a straight line, but as I backtracked the reality loomed that my path out had tacked at an inconsistent angle and now my return may have skewed even farther away from home. A violent gust of wind howled through the trees, as if the forest was celebrating my capture.

The beam of my flashlight sputtered as the battery threatened to fail. The loss of light made little difference, since I couldn't see three feet ahead of me in the thick trees and unrelenting snow. I flapped my arms in frustration; the saw slipped from my numbing fingers and dropped away, lost in the snowpack. Lacking any bearing on my direction, I staggered downhill toward what I hoped was a thinning patch of trees. Wet cold spread under my coat as snow seeped down my neckline and through the increasingly heavy cotton of my soaked sweatshirts. I felt my energy dwindling, my body weakening from the exposure and exertion.

A giant dark silhouette filled the close-in horizon as it emerged from behind the trees. "What the fuck?! A bear?!" I cried, but my words were swept away by the storm. The shape stepped towards me as I dropped, exhausted, to my knees. My damp sweatpants soaked and started to freeze as my legs sank into the deep snow. As my consciousness faded, I realized I hadn't encountered a bear after all, but a large man who was oddly dressed in a businessman's topcoat.

I drifted half-awake. The blizzard still raged as I found myself dangling with my belly hitched over the man's shoulder. "Who...?" I groaned in my daze. The man held me in place with one hand on the soaking waist of my sweatpants. His other arm dragged a giant tree limb. I pondered what he had been doing in the woods when he stumbled upon my freezing figure. My heavy lids closed again.

We emerged from the woods. "Hey! Do you know this place?" The stranger roused me as he asked. I muttered 'yes', recognizing the rear of my cabin. He hurried me into the house, leaving me on the floor inside the back door before hurrying back to the yard to break down the large section of tree that he had hauled out of the forest along with my lifeless body. I drifted back into my stupor amid the sound of snapping wood.

"John?" I mumbled my boyfriend's name before my eyes had reopened. I was lying on my back on a rug and felt heat to my side. My boots had been removed but my wet socks were still on my feet.

"Uh, no. My name is Damon..." The man replied as he worked. His back was to me, focused on stoking a fire in the wood stove. I was in the living room of my vacation house, though I couldn't remember how we'd gotten back here. Damon had relit a couple of the candles I'd left around the room. The thin light of the candles cast a flickering medieval light over us.

"How did...?" I whispered, still only half-awake. The heat from the stove grew, but my shivering intensified in my wet clothes.

Satisfied that the fire could sustain itself, Damon turned to examine me. He removed his gloves and overcoat, then his suit jacket. Damon was handsome and muscular, more than a foot taller than me and in his heavy dark topcoat was possibly bear-like, I mused. He brushed melting snow off of his bare head as he lay the garments on the stone hearth to dry.

"We were both lost in the storm when we ran into each other. My car skidded off the road down the hill and I thought that I could skirt the slope of the mountain to get to town but got turned around in the blowing snow." He shrugged reflectively on his mistake as he unfastened the leather strap of his wristwatch, held it to his ear to see if it was still ticking, then set it on the table. He unbuttoned the soaked dress shirt. His muscular chest and arms glistened with mingling lines of sweat and melted snow. I realized he might have been even colder than I was.

"We're lucky we found each other when we did, or we'd probably both be corpsesicles!" He forced a weak laugh that still quivered with the panic of narrow survival. "Even luckier that we found our way back to your house."

I nodded but struggled to follow his one-sided conversation. That we had emerged from the forest in the blinding storm back at my cabin seemed miraculous; practically impossible. Damon anxiously assessed my condition.

"You're dangerously hypothermic and close to going into shock." He unzipped my jacket revealing the wet shirts underneath. "We need to get you out of your wet clothes and raise your body temperature or your body will start shutting down."

I nodded vacantly, lifting my arms to let him tug the wet hoodie and undershirts off my body. My nipples jutted, painfully stiff in the centers of my breasts, agitated to the point of mania by the cold. A passing shyness at being topless in front of the black stranger drifted through my frozen brain, but Damon was doing a decent job of trying not to stare. Still, he was a human male, and the draw of naked D-cups defied the emergency. He cleared his throat, refocusing as he pulled off my wet socks, then pulled the ice-crusted sweatpants down from my waist and off my legs.

A fit of shivering wracked my body. Lying on the braided rug in only my damp, green thong, I felt detached and drifting. My mind floated beyond my stripped, frosty body. Tempting warmth beckoned from the edges of my wandering consciousness. Dangerous sleep gripped my naked frame and plunged me into its deceptively warming daze.

"No! Hey! Come on! Stay with me!" Damon shook me. My lids cracked in narrow slits, observing he had shed his slush-drenched slacks and knelt beside me in only his briefs. "We need to share body heat..." he explained as he swung a leg over my midsection. His muscular chest flattened my D-cups as he lay on top of me, vigorously rubbing my shoulders and biceps to encourage blood flow into my numbed extremities. The transferring heat of our bodies mingled as our skin pressed together.

"Mmm, John... the fire... feels so nice..." I moaned through my icy brain fog. The weight of the man's body on top of my own spread warmth over my skin, and also heated instinctive corners of my muddled mind. "Make love to me..." My hands rose on Damon's bare back, stroking the muscles of his shoulders. I raised my mouth towards his as a dark curtain closed behind my eyes.

The heat from the stove was my first wakeful sensation before I had opened my eyes. The next impression was the confusing contrast in my body. Though my limbs and head retained the heavy, aching cold of my perilous exposure, between my legs I was hot, wet, and very much awake! The blood-engorged lips of my pussy stretched tightly around the rigid cylinder of cock as it pumped into me.

"Mmm..." I groaned involuntarily at the penetration. 'I'm so glad John changed his mind about the fire...' my foggy brain lumbered, enjoying the dual bliss of the roaring stove and energetic lovemaking. After days of frustration, my boyfriend had come around on the novelty of the hearth and had set aside his work pressures to satisfy my needs.

But a distant alarm rose in my mind; something wasn't right. John was traveling in Florida, and I had been alone in the house for days. And, after years of adequate but pedestrian, predictable reruns with John's dick, this was definitely not what he felt like inside me!

My eyes shot open, finding the naked black giant, thrusting on top of me. My confusion cleared, taking in the stove, the piled clothes drying on the hearth, the furniture of the vacation home. Disjointed images of dark woods, blinding snow, agonizing cold, and a large figure carrying me. The fragments fell murkily into place, identifying the black stranger who was vigorously fucking me.

"Huh! Huh! Yeah! Hrrrng!" The man growled and tensed on top of me. Muscles bulged in his arms and shoulders, bracing as dark pillars on either side of my torso as his climax curled his spine toward the wood beams of the ceiling. His erection twitched inside me, each spasm splashing a volley of hot cream against the walls of my womb. With a final groan, he collapsed on top of me, sucking a wet line along my neck and collarbone. His breath steadied and he rolled off me onto his side, his dick springing free of my cum-filled gash with a pulpy squish.

"Who the fuck are you?!" I screeched. I tried to climb off the floor, but my legs were still leaden with cold. I righted myself onto my butt and scooted a few feet away, though I was careful to stay in the warm orbit of the stove.

"Whoa!" He raised his hands defensively as he sat up on his knees. "I'm Damon, remember?! I saved you from the woods!"

I shook my head, trying to clear the icy cobwebs. Jizz dribbled across my taint as I pulled my legs under me. "Why am I naked?!" I scanned the room for anything I could use to cover myself.

"We," he emphasized our mutual nudity, "are naked because our clothes were soaked with ice and snow... You were hypothermic, freezing to death! Remember, we had to rub together to raise your body temperature?!"

"And then you thought that was an opportunity to rape me while I was passed out?!" Our wet clothes were spread carefully around the stove. My eyes fell on his boxers, discarded hastily on the floor beside the rug; my panties were nowhere to be found. I considered wrapping myself in the rug from under me, but Damon was also sitting on it. His still-hard member glistened with my fluids. The size of the stranger's cock did not escape my notice; how could I have confused that for John's, regardless of my delirium?

"Ra-... passed- whoa, hold on! You kissed me first! You pulled off my boxers! You were talking and moving! You told me to make love to you!" Damon was agitated, frantic. As he spoke an outline of my consent rematerialized in my brain. He stood up, holding up my discarded sweatpants to cover his junk.

"And what about cumming inside me? Was that also to raise my core temperature?" With no clothing options within reach, I crossed my arms in front of my naked tits and defensively squeezed my legs together.

This time Damon's expression shifted from defiance to guilt. "Well... I'm sorry about that. I got overexcited. I mean, the trauma of my crash and the woods... and then," he gestured at my concealed body, "and I lost control. That one's on me..."

"No, that one is in me!" I countered. Despite the gravity of our confrontation, Damon snorted a quiet snicker at the line. My legs felt like they had regained some life and I climbed to my feet. I grabbed a blanket off the couch to shroud my naked body. "Also, now that things are coming back to me, I clearly remember calling you 'John'." I noted, feeling another worm of cum trickle from my pussy as I stood.

"Maybe we both got a little confused..." he suggested. "But again, you kissed me and said 'make love to me'. You were insistent!"

A powerful gust of wind rattled the windows and reminded me of the raging storm that had brought us together. Above the ceiling of storm clouds, the sky was brightening with snowy morning. Wrapped in a blanket, with a fire heating the powerless house, I pieced together the shards of memory from the night. I recalled the hopeless labyrinth of the woods, my numbing feet and hands as I struggled through the snowdrifts, the sudden appearance of the bear-turned-man who had not only miraculously returned me to the cabin I had lost but hauled enough wood to heat the home and revive my dying body.

I felt safer and calmer now that I was covered by the blanket. I considered Damon; he seemed friendly and rational and had obviously gone to exhausting lengths to ensure my safety. During my parents' visit, John had repeatedly rebuffed my advances, then left Tuesday morning without sating me. While I hadn't imagined I would see a stranger while John was traveling (never mind fuck one), the chaos and trauma of the storm and getting lost in the woods did seem like circumstances where my fogged brain might misdirect pent-up carnal instinct.