Shared Bodily Warmth

The cold spell in River City continued Saturday, and engulfed our local “professional” team’s offense. One of the surly teens accompanied me to the game, and we were able to stay warm enough to limp away from the debacle, on toes that still seem cold to me this morning. As we got home the car told me it was a sultry 14 degrees. Thank God for hand warmers.

Meanwhile, Mistress was at home, working away. She was warm and cozy in bed when I finally wandered in from the tundra, wearing some frilly lingerie from a Holiday past.

I slid into bed next to her, still wearing a few of my layers, hoping for some shared bodily warmth as I sipped an Irish whiskey, neat. And soon we were canoodling.

Mistress claimed that she was more than satisfied from our earlier sessions, but sometimes Mistress will say one thing while her lower brain will tell me something else all together. That signal usually starts with some barely susceptible movements of her hips against some part of me (depending on my own bodily orientation). The tell tale signs were there after a few minutes of passionate kissing. Sure enough, I my fingers found there way to that junction between her legs, I found her to be wet and needy. Holding her hands over her head with one hand, I pushed her onto her back and her legs spread for me. My fingers soon had her enjoying one of those soft and gentle orgasms that used to be a goal in and of itself, but has become just an appetizer over the last few months.

I was still wearing a wool sweater, some running tights, and two pairs of socks and my body temperature was finally starting to approach the norm. Mistress’s fingers grazing across my thickening cock seemed to help, and as I encouraged her, she reached inside the lycra covering and cupped my balls with those well manicured fingers. That seemed to hasten the thawing process.

I rose to peel off the tights and sweater, still cold but hoping that Mistress and I could solve that problem with some creative collaboration. Under the sheets she coaxed my cock into sufficient but hardly world class proportions, and allowed me to enter her. Fortunately, I was hard enough to bring her off one or two times, though I think Mistress was amused by my own inability to get there. I was just too damned chilled from 4 hours outside to take myself to the Promised Land.  This was sex purely for the pleasure of pleasing Mistress, and sharing in her warmth. And that made it more than rewarding for a lowly Slave.

We repeated this cycle at least two more times: Mistress using hands and mouth to harden the shrunken tool to serviceable proportions. Slave using that tool to provide joy to Mistress, then surrendering to his chills and fatigue. Slave got close to the edge several times, but never made it to the Mountaintop.

Finally, Mistress seemed satisfied, and she returned to her book. Slave cuddled against her, soaking up her warmth. It was a very comforting way to bring a cold and desolate day in River City to an end.