Blizzard's Velvet Embrace

The blizzard howled outside, a white-knuckle fury against the windows of our honeymoon cottage. Inside, however, a comforting warmth emanated from the crackling fire in the hearth, a small sanctuary against the raging storm. “I’m ready, Jack,” I murmured, my voice barely audible above the wind’s insistent shriek. I stood next to my bed, my weight divided equally between the floor and the plush mattress beneath my feet. Donning the white, long-sleeved shirt Jack had requested for our wedding night, it felt both protective and strangely vulnerable. The shirttails, strategically positioned, partially concealed my right hand, my fingers nervously tracing the sensitive peak of my clitoris. A thick velvet ribbon, the color of midnight, encircled my waist, cinching the shirt tight against my torso, a gentle pressure that vibrated against my nipples, already taut with anticipation. Jack only needed to tug at the ribbon, and the shirt would fall open, exposing my breasts to his eager gaze. The anticipation built with each passing moment, a delicious torment laced with desire.

I’d always loved the summer, those long, languid days spent swimming and laughing with Jack. We’d chase each other through the cool water, breathless with exertion, then lie side-by-side on the bank of the creek, watching the clouds drift lazily across the azure sky. As the sun began its descent, painting the horizon in hues of orange and pink, we’d dress, exchange awkward goodbyes, and part ways – I, ascending the winding path back to my home, and Jack, venturing across the creek to his own. There was a certain bittersweetness to those separations, a longing for the shared moments that were so fleeting.

One time, Jack had leaned over me, his breath warm against my skin, and kissed me deeply. Then, without a word, he rose to his feet, dressed, and walked away, leaving me feeling a strange mix of exhilaration and confusion. Was he embarrassed by the way his voice cracked several times during the kiss? Did he simply want to leave before the last vestiges of passion faded? The memory still made my skin tingle. I missed him terribly. The absence of his touch, his scent, his presence, left an ache in my chest.

The bedroom door creaked open, and Jack stepped inside, his silhouette outlined against the dim hallway light. The scent of pine and woodsmoke clung to his clothes, a familiar comfort that instantly eased the tension within me. He moved towards the bed, his movements deliberate and purposeful. The air thickened with unspoken desire, with the promise of pleasure and release.

Last summer, my mom had pulled me aside during a visit to her home. “I saw Jack in town the other day,” she’d said, her eyes twinkling with a knowing glint. “He asked about you, wondered if you were in the area. I told him you were. I noticed he didn’t have a ring on his finger.” She paused, letting the information sink in. “He seems to be quite smitten with you, Anna. You should encourage him.” The words hung in the air, a silent invitation to explore the depths of my feelings for Jack.

As I prepared for our swim, stripping off my clothes by the water’s edge, a wave of nervousness washed over me. I didn’t own a bikini when we last went swimming together, so I managed to fasten the strap of the bikini top, my hands trembling slightly. The fabric felt scratchy against my skin, a stark contrast to the smooth coolness of the water. Pulling on the bikini bottom, I paused to rub my pussy, feeling the warmth spread through me as I discovered its wetness against my fingers. For a moment, I thought my knees would buckle, overwhelmed by the burgeoning sensations. It was a potent cocktail of excitement and vulnerability, a precursor to the pleasures that awaited.

Jack was naked, his body glistening with moisture from the recent swim. His rigid cock immediately saluted me, a blatant declaration of his intentions. The sight of it, so exposed and powerful, sent a shiver down my spine. His gaze was intense, focused solely on me, and the heat of his desire radiated outwards, enveloping me in its passionate embrace.

We had first met eight years ago, when Jack discovered his favorite swimming hole. Two days later, I stumbled upon it myself, arriving before him and catching him mid-dive. “Hi,” I’d said, my voice slightly breathless from the climb. “I’m Anna. Who are you?” “I’m Jack,” he’d replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief. From that moment on, we were inseparable, spending countless hours swimming, racing, and playing tag in the sun-drenched water. It was a simple, innocent friendship, but it held the seeds of something much deeper.

As brides often experience anxiety on their wedding night, so too did I. However, my concerns were quickly overshadowed by Jack’s increasingly fervent pursuit of my affections. He had taken to arming himself, pulling me close, slipping his hand under my bra, and feeling up my breasts. The touch was both invasive and exhilarating, sending shivers of anticipation through my entire body. I felt the wetness between my legs, a silent acknowledgment of the growing heat within me. “Anna, I’m so hot for you,” he whispered, his voice husky with desire. He continued to grope while my left forefinger and thumb spread his pre-cum over his erection’s head. The anticipation built, reaching a fever pitch. What was it going to be like when that head was in my cunt? The thought alone was enough to send a jolt of electricity through my veins.

When Jack encountered Anna’s parents in town and learned she was in the area, his heart skipped a beat. He wanted to see her again, but a touch of fear held him back. Did she want to see him? In the end, his overwhelming desire to see her eclipsed his apprehension. The thought of her, her smile, her laughter, propelled him forward, overcoming any hesitation he might have felt.

The day had turned unbearably hot, a perfect excuse for a refreshing dip in the creek. Jack arrived at the creek, quickly shedding his clothes and wading into the cool water. After a few invigorating minutes, he crossed to the far side of the creek, seeking the shade beneath the overhanging branches. There, he settled onto a smooth rock, lost in thought. He reminisced about our shared moments, the laughter, the stolen glances, the unspoken promises. It was a bittersweet experience, filled with both joy and longing.

He heard whistling coming from the other side of the creek, a familiar sound that brought a smile to his lips. Quietly, he slipped off the rock and into the water, approaching the source of the music.

The heat intensified, making the air shimmer above the water’s surface. It was Anna, and she was undressing, her movements slow and deliberate. Her gaze, as always, was captivating, her eyes filled with a mixture of innocence and intrigue. Jack found himself unable to resist the urge to reach for his cock, succumbing to the primal instinct that surged through his veins. He watched silently as she pulled on her bathing suit, her body a vision of sun-kissed perfection.

As she moved closer, her wetness glistening in the sunlight, Jack felt a powerful wave of desire wash over him. He couldn’t help himself; he had to get closer, to feel her presence, to lose himself in the intoxicating allure of her beauty. He began swimming towards the middle of the creek, determined to close the distance between them.

“Hi, Anna,” he called out, his voice filled with warmth and affection. “It’s good to see you again.” As we drew closer, the tension between us became palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the simmering attraction that had grown between us over the years.

The bedroom was getting very hot, much like I had gotten hot in the creek last summer when I encountered Jack. The air hung heavy with anticipation, thick with unspoken desires. “Jack? Is that you?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “My parents said you were back in town. It’s so good to see you too.”

Moving slowly in the water, we closed the gap between us. As we approached each other, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us, suspended in a moment of pure, unadulterated connection.

“I’m not quite the little girl you remember, am I?” I said, breaking the silence with a playful challenge. “But I’ve certainly grown up a little.” Jack nodded his head in agreement. “I expect I’m not the little boy you remember, either.” We exchanged a knowing glance, a silent acknowledgment of the changes we had both undergone.

“Jack, I’m getting hot,” I said, my voice laced with urgency. We swam for a bit, attempting to recapture the carefree spirit of our childhood games, but the playful atmosphere had dissipated, replaced by a more intense, sensual energy. The shared moments felt charged with unspoken desires, a palpable tension that crackled in the air.

Jack entered the bedroom and crossed over to where I was standing. He pulled my arm out from under the shirt as he tugged at the ribbon. The fabric slid noiselessly off my shoulders to the floor. His eyes locked on my cunt, then he pulled me close to feel my breasts on his chest. My arms went around him as well to pull our hips together. He began to hump me; I could feel his dick exploring between my legs. I couldn’t wait for Jack to lay me down on the bed. To make him cum and fill my pussy.

The coolness of the creek water faded as my body heated up, anticipating the pleasure to come. “Jack, the last time we were swimming here, you kissed me. Remember?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly. Jack nodded his head, a silent confirmation of his desire. “Kiss me again, Jack.” I felt his hands grabbing at my ass and pulling himself into me. I reached to pull him close as well. There was no bathing suit. I looked into his eyes. I could barely whisper, “Jack, I didn’t realize you weren’t wearing anything.” I saw several bits of a white milky substance floating with the current.

Breathlessly, I blurted out, “Jack, did you just….?” Jack put a finger to my lips before I could finish. “Cum?” I finished for him. “Yes. Did you?” “Yes. Perhaps it’s time for us to go to our separate homes. Promise you’ll return tomorrow. I promise I’ll be wearing my bathing suit.” “I promise.” The first winter storm of the season heralded the arrival of my wedding day. The blizzard raged outside, but inside our honeymoon cottage, a sense of warmth and intimacy prevailed. The roaring fire in the fireplace cast dancing shadows on the walls, creating an atmosphere of cozy seclusion. I stood next to my bed, my weight evenly distributed between the floor and the mattress beneath me. Donning the white long-sleeved shirt Jack had requested for our wedding night, it felt both protective and vulnerable. The shirttails, strategically positioned, partially concealed my right hand, my fingers nervously tracing the sensitive peak of my clitoris. A thick velvet ribbon, the color of midnight, encircled my waist, cinching the shirt tight against my torso, a gentle pressure that vibrated against my nipples, already taut with anticipation. Jack only needed to tug at the ribbon for the shirt to fall away and expose my breasts to his hungry eyes. The anticipation built, a delicious torment laced with desire.

As the storm continued its relentless assault on the cottage, we lay side-by-side in bed, lost in each other's arms. The fire crackled merrily, casting a warm glow over our intertwined bodies. The scent of pine and woodsmoke filled the air, mingling with the intoxicating aroma of arousal. It was a perfect moment, a culmination of months of longing and anticipation. Finally, Jack took the initiative, reaching for the velvet ribbon. With a gentle tug, he released the shirt, revealing my breasts to his eager gaze. The sight of them, pale and tender, sent a shiver down his spine. His eyes burned with desire, his body tense with anticipation. He leaned closer, his breath hot against my skin, before gently stroking my nipples with his fingertips. The sensation was exquisite, igniting a fire within me that threatened to consume me entirely. As he continued to explore my breasts, my body began to tremble with pleasure. The heat intensified, spreading throughout my entire being. Soon, my clitoris was throbbing with anticipation, begging for release. Jack, sensing my need, shifted his position, bringing his cock into play. It was a magnificent specimen, thick and powerful, pulsating with energy. As he entered my vagina, I let out a gasp of pure pleasure, my muscles contracting involuntarily. The pleasure was overwhelming, a torrent of sensations that left me breathless and weak. It felt like an eternity, yet it was over in a flash. As we pulled apart, I lay there, exhausted but exhilarated, lost in the afterglow of our passionate encounter. The blizzard raged on outside, but inside our honeymoon cottage, a sense of warmth and intimacy prevailed. The fire crackled merrily, casting dancing shadows on the walls, creating an atmosphere of cozy seclusion. I closed my eyes, savoring the lingering sensations, and drifted off to sleep, secure in the knowledge that I had found my perfect match.

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