Winter

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On a cold winter night...
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WFEATHER
WFEATHER
1,900 Followers

The long, cold, windy, gray, sniffle-inducing winter trudged onward. Punxsutawney Phil had predicted another six weeks of winter, yet these six weeks seemed to be dragging onward. As she forced her feet through the snow on the unshoveled and unsalted sidewalks, as her breath was blown by the icy wind passing before her face, she shifted the backpack on her shoulder, wishing that she had chosen a different major just so that she was not carrying so many heavy books to and from campus each day.

Passing the small park at the center of the student neighborhood, she saw a few young teenagers building a snowman. At least that was appropriate for the weather, and there was definitely plenty of snow to be used in building a snowman – or a snow fort, as some older teenagers were doing on the far side of the block-sized park.

She thought of the snowman again, and returned her attention to the first group to watch as they lifted the large snowball which would form the snowman's head. It reminded her of that morning, when she had passed by the Humanities building on campus and laughed that someone – apparently during the night – had made an anatomically-correct snowman. Even stranger, the socially-unacceptable snowman was still there that afternoon, still standing just off the sidewalk near the front door of the building, so apparently the campus police thought it was amusing as well.

But then she sneezed. With a sigh, she hurried back to her apartment as quickly as she dared on the unsalted and unshoveled sidewalks.

*****

Despite the cold winter winds icing the sleepy suburb, she was completely nude as she slipped underneath the covers. She had long preferred sleeping in the nude, and had done so almost every night since moving from the dorms to the apartment complex – the only exceptions were during her period and during her little sister's visit around Halloween.

From the laptop in the living room, music softly reached her ears, as usual. She turned off the bedside lamp and, feeling a little frisky that night, she began to fondle herself. She thought of her former roommate's touches and tried to emulate them as best as she could, but there was no way that she could mimic the Spaniard's alluring accent while whispering naughty thoughts into her ear. She thought of Ben and his large hands, but she could not fit as much of each breast into her small palms. As the soft music became interspersed with the sounds of a woman having sex, she thought of Trey and his incredible girth, remembering how he had stretched her throughout their ungentle entanglement in the living room of the frat house while friends and strangers alike sottishly cheered their performance.

Without the cover of the din of a drunken crowd in a small space, she tried to keep quiet, but the memories of the weekend's wild party tipped her over the edge and set her voice free. As her chest heaved in the dark, as the reality of what had just happened swirled around within her skull, she realized that she had just given her neighbors a "radio show," and even though no one could see her, she turned over, burying her face in a pillow as she blushed, yet the memories of the frat party and the continued sounds of ecstasy set to music followed her into slumber.

*****

She opened her eyes to two sounds.

The first was not a surprising sound, given that she lived in a mostly-students apartment complex: the sound of a bed continually smacking against a wall while a guy grunted and a coed moaned. She envisioned that the guy was over the coed, driving himself deep and somewhat forcefully over her while she clutched at his upper back, keeping her legs spread as far apart as possible to give him the best possible access to her body.

The second sound was quite surprising: the rushing of the icy winter wind.

Turning on the bedside light, she saw that her window was partially open, the wind causing to dark brown curtains to blow inward. That was when she realized the coolness of her face and neck compared with the comfortable warmth of the rest of her bare body.

She had two choices: She could remain in bed while the cold air filled the bedroom and chased away the heat, or she could get out of bed, expose her entire being to the frigid air – and to anyone across the courtyard who might be looking at her window at such a late hour of the night – and close the window before diving back underneath the heavy warm covers.

Given her heating bills thus far for the winter, the choice was obvious.

But as soon as she had fully emerged from the warmth, a sound behind her caught her attention. Fearful that perhaps someone had slipped in through her window and was attempting to leave via the same route, she turned quickly.

A snowman was rounding the bed. Given her short stature, the snowman seemed to tower over her. Unusually, its arms were made not of sticks, but of actual snow, and they were bending as if the snowman had actual shoulders and elbows.

Most unusually, the snowman was anatomically correct, with a thick erection more than worthy of her favorite hentai series.

Curiosity crept into the fear, beginning to mix an intoxicating cocktail within her swirling head. For a moment, she forgot about the open window. For a moment, she did not hear the icy wind blowing into the small bedroom.

Despite not having any feet or legs, the snowman closed the distance to her, his arms outstretched as if it meant to offer her a hug. Fear was receding, the curiosity firmly taking root within her head as the swirling persisted.

She took the final step to close the distance, her own arms outstretched, feeling compelled by the charcoal eyes which seemed to bore deep into her psyche, unblinking eyes so black that they seemed both sinister and vapid...

The blood red scarf around the snowman's neck was almost farcical, yet it was immediately forgotten the moment her chest made the initial contact with the frozen body.

Instantly, she was once again aware of the cold – not the cold coming from the open window, but the cold coming from the snowman. Her hardened nipples seemed to throb from the cold, yet they sent flashes of pleasure directly to her clitoris, just like when her former roommate would rub ice on her nipples... only this cold was far more intense, penetrating deep into each breast and sending flashes even faster down her torso. The cold permeated her entire being, causing her face to turn up toward the ceiling as a shrill cry rose from her throat.

The snowman's arms seized her raw form, pulling her flush against his body. The cold was almost painful, yet her arms wrapped around the snowman nonetheless as she was lifted from the floor...

The frozen erection practically burned her clitoris as the snowman began to rock back and forth with an ungentle motion, the hardened anatomy sliding against her. She was almost as limp as a ragdoll, feeling her head snap back and forth with the snowman's insistent movements, her voice incoherent in its pleas for this most unusual assault to end.

Time seemed to cease, yet the snowman continued to rock, his frozen length still rubbing against her precious clitoris. The intense cold had indeed become painful, and not in the violent-pulling-of-hair way or the vicious-bite-of-a-nipple way. The snowman's chilled form was agonizing, torturous, and inescapable as his arms tightened their grip around her.

She could not stop screaming, yet she was powerless, unable to free herself from the snowman. Despite her screams, no one came to investigate, no one came to her rescue.

Then she felt the unthinkable: a powerful jet rising up between them, the snowman's icy ejaculate. He kept rocking fiercely, the intense cold against her clitoris far too painful to allow her to realize a similar pleasure as his chilly and copious release kept rising between them.

And then she was unexpectedly tossed aside, discarded like a cheap whore who had been thoroughly used.

She hit the floor with a thud, awakening in the darkness as she screamed from the pain of the impact with the carpet.

She was not cold – she was hot, still wrapped in the covers, her body wet from the dream and her mind utterly confused. Not even in all the hentai she had seen had she witnessed anything like this dream.

It took some time to catch her breath. She was still wet, and the fact that she could still hear the music from the laptop – the music laced with sounds of feminine pleasure – caused her to bunch the covers just right beneath her and, despite the headache from the fall, rock her way to the release she could not achieve in her dream.

*****

The anatomically-correct snowman was gone when she passed the Humanities building in the morning. That saddened her a little, but somehow, she had a feeling that she would meet a snowman – perhaps even the very same snowman – again, but ideally with a much more pleasurable result for her.

WFEATHER
WFEATHER
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