17800
Gusts of cold winding winds, howling in the shade of the moon.
Whipping hardened snow, as the frostbitten limbs of the pitch pine sway helplessly.
Icicles frozen to sagging gutters, full of fallen leaves.
Within the walls of the abodes safety, in the room, to the right of the front door.
There, upon the mattress, on top of the blue satin sheets, we lay.
Intertwined, squirming, filling the air with warm breath and moans of pleasure.
Scents of primrose and honey flow off her flesh, filling the nostrils.
Nibbles to the ear, as the tongue dances around the neck, tasting hints of salt with sweet perfume.
The bodies engage in mutual oral exploration.
She is warm and saturated from fluids of desired release, from his playful mouth.
As she arcs her back from the rush of orgasmic quivers.
With eager want, licks of coordinated intention, summon his manhood.
Dripping with saliva, she invites him into her soul.
Grunts, biting, thrusts of animal lust, give way to deep pelvic grinds.
Pressure building from the tightness of her wet slippery love.
Legs wrapped around the waist, she pulls him to her depths.
As his warmth flows, that cold winter's day.
