White Xmas

Originally posted in December, 2009 (hence the holiday theme), taken down for Through a Silvered Lens, Reposted July 2016

A little story for the holiday season. Not everyone has the same holidays at the same time. Sometimes you need to make your own when you can.

White Xmas
by Monocle

Our sleeping bags zip together perfectly, something we discovered by accident a few trips ago, and have taken shameless and wanton advantage of ever since. When two of you are heating the same small, well insulated space, the need for thermal underwear, or indeed any additional layers at all simply disappears.

We were two days into our five day loop through the Rockies, a short, needed holiday grabbed when we both could. One or both of us are usually on call during the “real” Holidays, so steal them from their places in the calendar and use them when we need to. This year Christmas was in the week before Memorial Day and was celebrated by a backcountry hike, you might be surprised how many of our holidays get celebrated that way. Or maybe you wouldn’t. Yesterday had been a big push over the first second big ridge, and today, according to our route and site reservation, was going to be a middling hike to a little lake, so we could take it a little easy. We’d set up our camp at dusk last night, quite exhausted from the high air and steep climbs, and barely remembered to put tie up the food in a tree and cover the backpacks before crawling into the tent. We had not been too tired to tangle with each other in our double cocoon, and we wrestled in the gathering darkness. Evening sounds of the darkening the wooded valley site were joined by laughter and squeals, then moans and growls, and finally her feminine cries as I thrust down into her upturned sex, my chest against her back, pressing her against the soft pine-needle covered forest floor on the other side of our sleeping bags and tent-bottom.

We slept well and long, rolled onto our sides from our coupling. At some point in the night I slipped out of her, but any mess was largely contained by the small soft towel we had brought into the bag, tucked up between her legs as we had drifted toward sleep (we have been doing this for a while, after all).

The morning was long in coming, and it was still dim and grey outside when her motions awakened me. I was wrapped around her, one leg between hers, one biceps acting as her pillow, the other arm wrapped possessively around her ribcage. My first thought was how warm she was, then how soft she was, then how well we fit together. My arm was exactly in the right place, my leg.. The curve of her back against my chest, her pert rear end against… It dawned on me she was squirming and speaking to me in a less than happy voice.

“..ome on you big palooka, let me out! I have to go! I need to pee!”

Ah, yes. Morning Pee. National emergency. Seriously. I can joke about it to myself, but you do not Dis, or even worse interfere with, Morning Pee. So, however much I wanted to hold on to her, to roll her over onto her back and make like the other beasts of the forest, I raised my arm and let her wriggle free. I was still nice that it took her some time to get out of the bag. She muttering and wiggling the whole time. I didn’t mind the wiggling part at all. She’d actually exerted herself a little by the time she’d gotten out of the bag and reached for the tent zipper, with choice words disparaging my larger bladder as she unzipped the door.

“..goddamn camel, you. You’d think you’d- oh, holy-”

I could see what had interrupted her. The unzipping of the tent door was accompanied by a small slide of white powder from the roof of the tent. But that wasn’t the only white powder to be seen. Everything outside the tent was white. There was more than a foot of it on the ground even with the trees, and it was still coming down. No one at the ranger station had said anything about snow, though we both knew that it could happen this time of year. I don’t think either of us expected quite so much, or for it all to appear literally overnight. We must have slept through a near blizzard. The air now was cold, but not too cold. I wondered if it was going to warm enough to turn the big, fat falling flakes into rain soon.

“Wow. That’s a lot of snow.”

“Yes.” she said through gritted teeth. Damn. Mother nature was messing with Morning Pee. That couldn’t be good.

I was about to suggest she get on her wool stuff when she took a deep breath and dove out the door.

I reached my hand after her, but what was I going to do? She didn’t close the tent door, so I was treated to her naked backside and toned legs stepping gingerly, quickly away from me, almost knee deep in the snow. She hugged hre self as she stepped, her long, dark morning-messy curls catching the snowflakes that would otherwise have fallen on her back. She stepped, chattered her teeth, cursed, and repeated, looking for a likely spot a discreet distance from the tent to squat. In times like this, you’d be surprised how short discreet distances can be. Or maybe you wouldn’t.

I scanned the tent for one of the thin-but-absorbent infinite-use towels one must keep with oneself at all times in the back country, so that she could dry herself when she got back in the tent. I was fishing it back into the bag to warm it up when I heard a yelp, then a scream. I quickly turned to look out the door, in time to see the tree above her shed several branch-full’Äôs of snow. Right on top of her as she was trying to stand up. I was ready to leap from the tent myself, until I saw her still standing, allbeit piled with white, cursing, and shaking the stuff from her.

I couldn’t help myself. I started laughing, and the more I tried to stifle it, the worse it got. It certainly drowned out her foul language, and I think the tearing in my eyes made me miss the murderous look in hers as she got back to the tent. I was only able to stop as she unceremoniously, pushed her way into the sleeping bags. She didn’Äôt stop to towel off, or even brush all the snow from herself. She just bulled right in.

Now it was my turn to yelp. She was COLD! Her feet! They were ice cubes. Her legs and hips, wet and cold like a person had no business being. And she was pushing against me! Shit! There was a whole snow bank between her breasts and she was melting it against me as she snuggled aggressively close.

“Mmm You’re so big and warm and dry,” she purred. She knew exactly what she was doing the (wet, cold) minx. And let me tell you. She could get away with it.

She threw her leg over me and pressed herself closer. I almost jerked back She was unbelievably cold where the junction of her legs pressed into my thigh. I’d come to attention even before she’d left the sleeping bag, but this put a literal cold damper on me.

“Jesus Allah Buddha! What the hell?” I exclaimed.

She shivered against me.

“No leaves. I used snow.”

Well, that explained that first yelp, at least.

“Oh, you poor dear!”

“Yes!” she whimpered petulantly.

I reached between us with a hand that hadn’t been outside the sleeping bag all night, and palmed her whole pussy. She was very cold to my touch, but that meant mine was…

“Oohh that’s so nice and warm”

I pressed into her, gently rubbing and warming her. She cooed and nuzzled her snow-wet hair into my shoulder, literally melting into me. Two bodies in a well insulated space. It doesn’t matter if one of them starts out wet and cold. Before long, the temperature rises.

“I’m still cold.” She lied.

“Oh? I think I know how to warm you up.”

I rolled over her, her arms around my back, my elbows coming to rest on either side of her. Our lower bodies interleaved, but I raised my outer leg so she could allow both of mine to settle between hers. I looked down at her gorgeous face. How did I get so lucky to find her, and make her mine?

She opened, and drew up her knees, so that as much of her thighs and legs and calves as possible were touching and holding me. My hardness pointed down, pressed against the cleft of her ass cheeks. She arched, and pressed her self up against me.

“…Cold…” she said.

I lowered my chest to her, circling her slight frame in my arms, her own arms coming up my sides to clasp around my back. At the same time I raised my pelvis, sliding the top of my cock up along her cool, but no longer cold perineum. Then at just the right height, the tip slipped up against her. One intentional flex and my cock head slid up against her slit. Yes, hot and cold is relative. To my blood-filled shaft, her slit felt like soft ice.

“Ohhh. You’re going to burn me,” she whispered.

“Ah, but what a way to go…” I lowered myself into her. Only her very entrance was cold. Inside, she was as hot as I. We groaned together as I pressed her down in our little cocoon. The door to the tent was still open, the snow still falling, but more lightly.

We didn’t see it stop. Didn’t pay attention to the shedding snow that bowed the roof of our tent, or even the sun burning the clouds off over an hour later. We warmed each other, fit together in our little space, until every tiniest piece of both of us had completely thawed.

We dozed with her curled up astraddle of me, her head on my chest, me still semi-hard within her, until our rumbling stomachs finally made us think of the world outside the tent again. The late spring sun was hot, rapidly melting the snow, but not *that* quickly.

“I think we’re going to have to settle for a muddy ‘out and back’ instead of the whole loop,” I said. She nodded in agreement. That was a slight disappointment, but it did mean that today, we didn’t have to go anywhere at all.

“I’ll go get the food and kit,” I volunteered. She nodded again. I knew she wasn’t going to volunteer to go out into the snow again after getting all warm. Besides now I also had to pee. So I lumbered into motion. I also didn’t put any clothes on. The snow was quickly very, very cold against my feet and legs as I went about my tasks. But, also, I cheated. After getting the food bag down from the tree, out of sight of the tent opening, I got down and rolled in a big drift.

I entered the tent, food bag slung over my shoulder, hair and beard-stubble white with snow, freezing my ass off.

“Ho Ho Ho! Merry Christmas!

It was so completely worth it when I dove back into the sleeping bag.

– Monocle


Before you read and go, let us know what you thought. I promise we won’t regret it.

Categories: Consensual, Erotica, Married Sex, Monocle, RomanceTags: , , , , , , , , ,


I am the little devil on your shoulder, stroking your neck with my tail, whispering obscenities into your ear, and looking down your blouse. One third of The Erotic Writer blog.


  1. numen_intus

    I adore this! Such a sense of fun and abandon that only proper holidays with a beloved can bring. Beautiful intimacy, perfectly portrayed.

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