My colleague Exhibit A is hosting Christmas Erotica Extravaganza. Each day he’s posting a Christmas song as a prompt and letting our imaginations run wild.
This is my contribution for his first prompt, The Pretenders’ “2,000 Miles.”
“It’s too warm in San Diego to feel like Christmastime. Let’s drive out to the mountains for the weekend.”
We light a fire in the hotel room and snuggle naked under the blanket together but it isn’t long before we’re too warm. Tossing off the blanket, he gets up suddenly, crosses the room, and throws open the window, letting in a blast of frozen air that sets my whole body at attention.
“Don’t grab the blanket,” he warns. “We came up here to be cold.”
I lie on my back, muscles tense, resisting the urge to shiver. His eyes and the icy air touch me. Each gust of wind plays over my nipples until I think they can’t possibly become any harder. My eyes are on the window. Diamonds sparkle, frost and snow on the glass. I long for the blanket but I’m restrained by his wish.
Through the open window I hear Christmas music in the distance, at least three or four songs have played as he stares at me with a look of affectionate assessment. He’s gauging the upward point of my nipples, the goose bumps emerging on my arms, my struggle to keep still.
Heat from the room slightly melts the frost on the edge of the window. I adjust my focus to his cock. As each moment of exposure to the cold leaves me in agony, his cock grows. He thrives on the cold and my discomfort with it.
I imagine his cock inside me, heating me from within. My breathing steadies, my muscles relax. With my eyes on his I risk moving one hand down to touch myself. He nods. I press one fingertip to my clit and instantly feel warmth radiate from it.
“That’s enough,” he says quietly after that one moment. I close my eyes in silent frustration and withdraw my hand. I will myself to stay warm, to retain my small amount of heat.
“What’s your Christmas wish?” he asks.
“For you to fuck me,” I whisper.
“For you to close the fucking window,” I say louder.
“You can choose one.”
I open my eyes to find him smiling. Cock in his hand, he takes a step toward me, confident he knows which I’ll choose.
“Close the window,” I say, pulling the blanket over me and turning my back to him.
It’s only the twenty-fourth. There will be plenty of time for fulfilling his Christmas wish tomorrow.