Wind raged through the low scrub, driving the snow like pellets. No glimpse of sky nor marked trail emerged from the wintry blast. Carrie knew they were lost. Hours before, her husbands back had disappeared into the fro- zen gloom. Now she trudged on, half frozen, with just two of their original party. Terrified of being left behind to die, she struggled to stay up with them.
Like badgers, they clawed at the snow hollowing out a cave in a massive drift. They dug deep, pushing the snow out behind them, carving out walls and a ceiling, then jamming the entrance with their packs.
The tiny cave was a welcome refuge away from the stinging wind. Weary from their frigid struggle they lay back in the snow and gathered their strength. Between them, a stub of a candle burned in a makeshift holder, sending flickering black shadows onto the pristine walls. Its feeble flame was scarcely enough to take the edge off the biting cold, but they treasured it as if it was the key to life itself.
Later, with the candle snuffed, they huddled together in a cocoon made of their bedrolls. Carrie was in the middle, snuggled for warmth between the two men. Out- side, the wind loosed its moaning fury all around them.
She thought of her husband and the rest of the group. They had the compass and would be safe now from the per- ishing cold. He hadn't even looked back, knowing that she couldn't keep up. Tears sprang to her eyes and she cursed him under her breath. But for the two strangers she was wedged between, heed left her alone to die in the icy gale.
She dozed fitfully, her sleep fragmented by the dread of succumbing to the numbing cold. She longed for the candle but blanched at the thought of using up its pre- cious life. Grateful for the warmth of her companions, she burrowed deeper into the bed and dropped into a troubled sleep.
Through the veil of her fatigue, she felt a hand cup- ping her breast. She rolled on her side pretending to be asleep, reluctant to move from the warm refuge of the bed. The hand returned, insinuating itself under her layered garments in a quest for bare skin. Her breath paused in her lungs while her mind searched for what to do. She knew she should move away, give up the warmth. But thoughts of being off on her own in the cold cave stilled her limbs.
A second hand came from the other side and immedi- ately set to work on the buttons of her shirt. The first was already rolling her nipple between callused fingers. She knew within moments both of her breasts would fall prey to their touch. Images of her husband flickered in her mind and she wondered what he would think if he could see her now. The seething possessiveness that marked their marital relationship lodged in her throat like an acrid pill. He demanded a much higher morality of her than of himself, and she had never questioned it. But the sight of him pressing on through the raging storm without her...
The two men continued to loosen Carrie's clothes and their hands roamed over her secret places. Her objec- tions sounded weak, tentative and half-hearted. She was told to 'Hush. We could all be dead in the morning¹. She thought again of her husband, safe with the rest of the party, and blamed him bitterly for not staying close to her. Damn you! Damn you! cried from her heart.
It was warm and she felt protected between the men. She felt her drawers being tugged down by two sets of hands. Surprising even herself, she raised her buttocks to let them go. She unfastened the remaining buttons on her own shirt and wriggled out of it.
They helped her with her leggings and she snuggled between them, naked except for her heavy socks. She lay on her back and her knees made a tent in the blankets. Fingers roughened by hard work thrilled her belly. She moved her leg to help them find their way to the liquid pooling at her entrance.
No man but her husband had ever touched her there. Muttered prayers for forgiveness tumbled from her lips and dissolved in the hiss of excitement that sent tre- mors of delight rippling through her belly.
Upon discovering her open legs and abundant wetness, one of the men whispered 'What an agreeable woman you are.¹ and kissed her lightly on the cheek. 'A beauty with swollen tits and a sweet slit that weeps for at- tention.¹
There was a hand on each breast and two moving be- tween her legs taking turns feeling her saturated sex. Her own hands were filled with theirs. Both men felt considerably larger than her husband. In the darkness of the snow cave, she studied the contours with her fingertips creating images from touch that her eyes could not provide in the darkness. Their cocks were very different. Joseph¹s long and uncircumcised. Victor¹s, shorter, thicker, and missing the foreskin.
Carrie wished she could see them. She imagined Victor¹s as dark skinned, swarthy, menacing. The knob was smooth, almost silken and the size of an English plum. The sturdy shaft rose through a mass of coarse, unruly pubic hair. At the base of his powerful cock she found his sack and weighed his massive balls in her hand. A blush came to her cheeks as she realized that she wanted to kiss his belly and run her tongue along the gnarled root. But, there was Joseph too. She liked the feel of his cock. With the heel of her hand tight against his belly, there was a good three inches that protruded above her fist. His balls were not huge like Victor¹s but they were ample nuggets in a tight pouch. He was hairy from his belly to the tops of his thighs.
Their weathered hands felt good on her soft skin. She loved the way they moved across her body and touched as if they owned her private places. Her bottom squirmed eagerly and her hands drew on their cocks as if milking them to readiness.
Joseph shifted his weight and moved onto his knees. As if by prior agreement, Victor gave way and let him move between her legs. The blankets pulled up and cold air leaked into their cocoon, invigorating the gaping wet furrow that awaited Joseph.
A long sigh of satisfaction moaned from her lips as he entered her. Deep in her belly she could feel the tip of his cock nudge the opening to her womb.
¹What a pleasant cunt you have Mrs.,¹ he drolled in his faintly Irish accent. 'So nice and tight and wet as a cod's tongue.
No force on earth could have kept her hips still then. She rose to meet him stroke for powerful stroke. Beside her on the blanket Victor whispered lewd and erotic thoughts that quickly pushed her to the brink. The darkness in the tiny snow cave was filled with the sounds of her orgasm and the smells of her lust.
She was glad of the dark. Shame for what she had just done made her face feel hot. Joseph's seed wept onto the blanket and immediately felt cold and wet to the touch. In the tangle of discarded clothes, she found her under- pants and mopped between her legs. In spite of her crimson cheeks her hands trembled and her heart pounded with an undeniable exhilaration.
Joseph was on his back and snoring and Carrie dozed fitfully. Beside her, Victor kept a silent vigil. He was waiting patiently until the inky blackness in the cave was softened by the dim light of morning filtering through the snow. Throughout their sleep, his hand never left Carrie's smooth skin. His fingers constantly circled, patrolling the taut belly, traversing the golden pears that rose and fell with every breath. Each time his touch found the moist crevice between her legs, her eyes opened briefly to smile, and slip back into sleep.
The fact that she was a married woman excited Victor. It made him very hard when he thought about how she carried on when she came. He wished her husband could have heard her wails and watched how she pleasured her- self on Joseph's cock. He would have liked to spread her legs; to show him the wetness that welcomed them; to let him see how her hips wriggled so gratefully. The long winter nights in the coming months would hear her wail like that quite often. Her husband needn't worry that shed be getting enough cock. He and Joseph would see to that...