Snow Globe

Maybe one unanticipated creampie wasn't too high a price for living through the storm.

"So, John is..." Damon's eyebrows raised in acknowledgement that he already knew the answer.

"Uh, yeah..."

"You seem pretty calm, so I'll assume he's didn't also go into the woods..."

I cackled, realizing what an even bigger monster that would make me. "No, no. He's safe and warm in Florida until next week... assuming roads and airports here are reopened by then." I had no idea of the scope of the storm beyond the snowbound house. Damon nodded, accepting the existence of my boyfriend, and the reality of our impassable distance.

"Well... look, we should get dressed." I scanned his array of wet clothes spread out beside the stove, then the stranger's physique. "I don't know if my boyfriend has anything that will fit you..."

Damon shrugged again, looking relieved that I had moved on from my accusations, though uncertain what the day would bring. I excused myself and left him in the living room as I went to get dressed. Though the fire in the stove was heating the living room, the cold at the back of the house invaded my blanket and seeped into my naked flesh beneath. My teeth were chattering again as I dropped the blanket and hurried my arms and torso into a dry white long-sleeve then a hoodie.

I paused as I stepped into a clean yellow thong, suspending the panties bridged at mid-thigh. My fingers dipped inquisitively between my legs. As I raised my hand, Damon's congealing seed glistened on my fingertips in the dim light. I pressed my fingers together, then separated them again, watching the stranger's sticky cream stretch in narrowing bands between my fingertips. I brought my fingers to my mouth, giving it an investigative taste at first, then sucking my digits clean of the salty cum.

"That's enough!" I hissed at the empty room. I shook my head, clearing the daze. If fucking this stranger had been a symptom of my malady, I had to act like it! I reached into our bag of dirty laundry and pulled out one of John's used undershirts to wipe my fingers. After a moment's thought, I dragged the shirt between my legs to clean the leaking cum from my gash and inner thighs. I buried the soiled shirt at the bottom of the hamper and tugged my panties up to conceal my misdeed. I hurried black sweatpants on over my underwear.

Digging through the clothes John had left behind, it was obvious that nothing of my boyfriend's would fit the hulking black man waiting naked by the stove. A pair of sweatpants and a zip-up hoodie -- both oversized on John and packed with the intention of layering -- were the best I could do. As I returned to the living room, Damon had replaced my sweats to their drying position in front of the stove and had a blanket wrapped around his waist.

He accepted the dry clothes with a grateful smile. The sweatpants fit him like yoga tights, clinging to his muscular thighs and glutes with the elastic cuffs cinching above his ankles. The front of the pants stretched over his package, highlighting its proportions even in its flaccid state. Damon didn't bother trying to zip the hoodie, leaving it open to expose his bare chest and stomach.

I tore my gaze away from the show of muscle and bulge. "I guess it's morning, so should I try to make us breakfast?" I offered, hurrying to the kitchen to distract myself. Since my initial outrage faded with my acceptance of consent (or, rather, invitation), a sinful new line of thought reverberated in the lizard corners of my brain. I was trapped in an isolated cabin with a well-hung black man, one who had already fucked me once. A devilish voice wondered if it would be so much worse to continue 'keeping each other warm' for as long as we were stranded.

More seed oozed from my pussy as I cracked eggs into a bowl and whisked them with a fork. With a quick glance at the doorway to make sure I wasn't being watched, I tore a paper towel in half and wadded it into the crotch of my panties. There was a suitcase full of John's clothes to remind me of my boyfriend's existence; I wasn't going to let the stranger fuck me again, was I? I twisted the pepper grinder over the bowl of eggs, intently directing my focus to a project rather than let my mind wander to the stranger's behemoth fighting against his borrowed, overburdened sweatpants.

I returned to the living room and saw that Damon had filled the kettle with snow and was melting it on top of the stove. I poured the eggs into a pan and scrambled them as he poured two cups of tea. We sat at opposite ends of the couch, inserting a self-conscious barrier of space between us as we ate.

He stood and retrieved his phone from the inside pocket of his coat, but the battery was almost dead, and worse, reception was impossible in the storm. Likely the towers suffered from the same power outages as our house. My phone sat on the shelf of a bookcase, optimistically connected to the charging cord in the hope that power and reception would return.

Outside, the blizzard raged for its third day. Damon hauled in more wood, stoking the fire until it blazed in the stove. I shed my hoodie, acknowledging the fresh luxury of excessive heat after my freezing state a few hours earlier. A sheen of sweat formed on my skin, the white fabric of my undershirt clung to my breasts, betraying a hint of pink nipple through the waffle fabric. I brushed aside my shyness, aware that although Damon had been a stranger a few short hours ago, he had not only seen me naked but also fucked me, and so any notion of modesty now was pointless.

The evidence of the act between us was still leaking out of me as the gray afternoon passed in its snowy half-light. Noting that our fuel supply was again waning while the storm was not, Damon went out the back door to fetch more firewood.

A gust of cold air from the back of the house announced Damon's return. He tracked snow across the floor as he dumped his stack of logs in the bin, then left to shed his snow-covered jacket. A few moments later, he returned to the living room holding up a bottle of wine he'd spotted in a rack by the mudroom door.

"It's a decent label... and we wouldn't want this to freeze and burst, would we?" He suggested with a grin and a waggle of his eyebrows as he opened the bottle.

I nodded in agreement, though I wasn't sure that alcohol was what we needed in our predicament. I accepted the glass he poured for me and took a big sip. It wasn't like I had anywhere to go.

Whether our rapidly blossoming friendship was exaggerated by extreme circumstances (or my guard was further lowered by my portion of our bottle of wine) I found that Damon was a pleasant companion in our confined space. Outside the wind continued to howl, but in the warm, safe den we had created, Damon and I chatted, sipped wine and tea brewed on the stovetop, and read from the homeowners' library of airport novels to pass the storm.

I learned that Damon worked in finance in New York and was out here for his niece's sixth birthday party. With local airports closed by the blizzard, Damon had been diverted to an airport in a neighboring state. On the ground, he rented a car, desperate to get to his sister's house and avoid disappointing the birthday girl, regardless of the storm.

"Of course, the party was almost certainly canceled by the time I crossed the state line, but I was already on my way and in the middle of nowhere."

Blinded by whirling snow -- and, by his own admission, driving too fast for the conditions in his urgency to escape the storm -- he skidded off the road. The embankment was gradual, so he wasn't hurt, but his car was hopelessly stuck in the snow-filled ditch. Faced with the choice of freezing to death in his car on the desolate highway or trying to hike his way to help, Damon had grabbed the map from the glovebox, buttoned up his overcoat, and then set out around the mountain slope in search of help in town.

"And we see how well I did with that!" He said with a self-deprecating chuckle.

"Uh, that worked out pretty well for me since I'm not dead in a snow drift." I chewed my bottom lip and blushed as I formulated my next line. "And it seemed to work out pretty well for you, too." My eyes darted cheekily at the rug by the fire then back to Damon. A hush fell over the couch as we stared at each other, trying -- and ultimately failing -- to contain the embarrassed laughter that burst from our lungs and rapidly built into a hilarious uproar. For a moment, our laughter drowned out even the shrieking wind.

"It's like living in a snow globe... And some spazzy little kid won't stop shaking it!" I remarked as I looked out the window at the swirling curtains of white.

In the unchanging ambiguous grey twilight, the exhausting chaos of our night (our perilous escape from the snowy woods, not the fireside exertions after) took its toll and we both slipped into deep slumber on the couch. I couldn't tell how much time had passed when I awoke, nuzzled into the crook of Damon's arm. Tucked in the refuge of blankets and body heat, the soft comfort and safety that wrapped my body was accompanied with a pleasant tingling of resumed warmth between my legs.

I cooked a can of soup on the stove for our dinner as the storm still showed no sign of letting up. Outside the pitch dark of true night fell quickly. Without phones or clocks, we could only estimate actual time of day, but as shadows spread from the corners of our room, we followed our primal instincts to determine bedtime. As I rose from the couch to move to the bedroom, Damon nodded goodnight and started making a nest of blankets on the couch.

"See you in the morning." He said, hauling blankets up to his neck and tucking his face between the couch cushions.

Damon rolled back over when I tapped his shoulder. "Umm, do you think we would be warmer if we share the bed?" I struggled to deliver my invitation in a controlled voice. We had already napped together, I rationalized. I didn't see the harm in sharing further rest and warmth.

His eyebrows raised, evaluating our relationship's evolution in one twitch of facial muscles. But he didn't argue. Heat conservation in the face of a natural disaster dictated the logic, and there wasn't room for the two of us to sleep comfortably on the couch all night.

I took his hand and led him down the dark hallway to the back of the house. The moon reflecting off the snow glowed through the curtains, illuminating the chilly bedroom in patches of murky light and creeping shadows. Damon tossed aside John's hoodie but kept the overburdened sweatpants as he climbed into the bed. I shed my own sweatpants, sliding into the sheets in my panties and long sleeve tee.

"So, uh..." Damon probed my comfort level as he lay on his side. In response, I scooted butt-first into him, pushing my legs and bum against his thighs for heat. His arms crossed in front of my shoulders, pulling my back into his torso in his embrace. My breasts landed in his palms by dubious coincidence. The pressure through my shirt further warmed me beyond skin deep.

A predictable jab emerged at my tailbone. After a long day of trying not to stare at the prominent bulge, it felt larger now that it pressed against me. I subtly shifted, moving my butt against the growing lump in his pants. He inhaled sharply through his nostrils, telling me my efforts were working. I swiveled my hips more dramatically, short arcs that drew the cleft of my cheeks up and down his stiffening length. His hands flexed, groping my breasts as our mutual excitement grew. It was obvious we both wanted to contribute more than body heat to our shared bed.

Damon slid a hand down my ribs until it found the hem of my shirt. His hand dipped beneath the layer of cotton, then traveled north again towing the shirt with it as it rose. I whined in agreement as my tits breached from beneath the shirt, then raised my arms to let him tug it off my body. His rabid hands attacked my bust, kneading and mauling the meaty orbs. The poke at my bum intensified into a demanding dig.

I flirtily rolled away from him, my big tits spilling out of his hands to his momentary disappointment. I pulled the blankets down past his knees, exposing the tent swelling in his sweats. He obligingly rolled onto his back, watching me with a mix of expectation and disbelief.

"I think this time I'll warm you up..." I purred as I climbed down his leg, backing toward the foot of the bed and skimming my tits the length of his abdomen.

My fingers clutched beneath the elastic waist, but I paused my hands while I gently kissed and licked the defined muscles of his abs and down until my lips reached his waistline. Damon breathed loudly through his nose as he watched me tease. I knew the muscular stranger could make me suck his dick if he chose but knowing he would anxiously wait elevated the thrill of my game, no matter how short-lived I'd allow it to be.

I stopped teasing and tugged the tight fleece away from his waist in a matador's sweep of my arms.

Damon's cock lunged out, waving in excitement as it was freed. I took his pulsing shaft in my hand, lifting and stroking it as I brought the fingers of my other hand to his balls. Fondling and scratching his sack, my lips started at the base of his shaft, then slowly traveled north. My tongue flattened over the thick vein at back of his cock. As I reached his tip, I parted my lips and enveloped his head with a twist of my neck.

"Oh fuck!" Damon gasped as my mouth plunged over his tool. My tongue lashed in a cyclone around his pipe, swirling like the blizzard outside that had fated us together. My fingers teased and tugged his sack, my other fist beat a slow pace along his shaft.

I knew that in the broader scope, this wasn't right, sucking this stranger's cock while my boyfriend's suitcase looked on. But the storm and power outage were absolutely extenuating circumstances. Damon had literally carried me out of the woods, then collected fuel to heat the house and keep us both alive. And besides, whatever my understanding at the time, the man in my bed had already fucked me once.

My lips dragged their long, patient embrace up the length of his shaft. I bucked my neck, pulling my mouth over the black cock. Taking pains not to disrupt my work, Damon stretched to push the sweats down his legs before kicking his feet free. My head bobbed rhythmically, devotedly servicing my rescuer's dick with my lips.

Fleeting guilt aside, Damon's cock felt wonderful in my mouth. My lips stretched around his thick shaft as they looped between his tip and base. While my mouth's hold glided up and down his length -- savoring the chance to embrace the stranger's big black cock -- my hands stroked the base of his shaft in tandem. I marveled at having both of my hands engaged on the same cock, both busily pumping to bring pleasure to the man who had saved my life.

I released my grip, moving my hands to his hips. Holding Damon's gaze, I forced my mouth to take in more of his tool. My lips determinedly crawled down his pipe, inching toward his base as they progressed. His glans went through the back of my mouth, then past my tonsils before lodging in my throat. The tip of my nose tickled the skin below Damon's waist as my lips victoriously ringed the base of his cock. I held his gaze as my wide blue eyes filled with tears of successful exertion.

"Fuck! Shit! God, that's so good!" The words escaped in a rush of air from Damon's lungs.

He held as still as his instincts would let him, watching his cock disappear into the mouth of the more-than-willing white girl. Finally, my own frustrating need for air defeated my libido, and my lips retreated clear of his tip. The length of his dick was coated in a thick dribbling sheen of my drool. My hands returned to his shaft, now stacked one atop the other, doubly stroking him as I caught my breath.

"Did you like that?" I asked rhetorically. He nodded in the affirmative, also panting from my work. "Did you think I could do it?" My follow up was answered with a slow, disbelieving shake of 'no'. I smiled as I wrapped my lips around his head again, lightly sucking the tip for an instant. "I knew that I could. I love sucking big black cocks. Thank you for letting me suck yours." Damon's eyes betrayed his appreciation of my previously secret passion, even as they darted toward another man's suitcase at the other end of the room.

My hands continued pumping his shaft as my lips returned to his tip for another tender suckle. I paused my hands as his head again popped from my lips. My tongue stuck from my mouth, flattened against my chin. With a flick of my wrists, I batted the heavy cock against my tongue, appreciating its weight both in my hand and in the concussive force as it struck. The room was silent except for the wet fleshy impacts of his erection on my tongue, and the howling winter wind in the trees.

I stopped swinging, but my mouth hovered so close to his glans that I could feel the heat rising from his excited skin. "Do you want to watch me do that again? Will you let me suck your cock again?" His cock twitched as my hot breath washed over it. Damon nodded 'yes' in a gestured scream.

"Thank you..." I whispered as I licked each of my hands with thick coats of lubricating slobber, then gave his pole a few pumps to slick his length. My hands sank to the bottom of his shaft, circling together at his base. I wetted my lips, again holding his eye contact as my lips approached his head.

Damon's tip and several inches of his dick disappeared into my mouth as I swallowed him in one expert movement. My lips retreated until only his head remained in my mouth, then I reversed and plunged deeper down his rod. Each time I returned down his prick, more of his shaft was consumed behind my lips. Each dive packed his glans farther into my mouth and throat, his thick pipe emerged glazed with another coat of slimy drool every time my lips withdrew to collect for another drive.

My brain was a vacant blaze of lust. My thong was swamped with my sticky excitement. I began each plunge with an enthusiastic whine then ended in a syrupy cough as I jammed more of his dick down my throat. Pride of accomplishment swelled in me as I removed my bracing hands and replaced their ringed hold at his base with my tightly wrapped lips.

"Holy... Shit..." Damon stammered. His neck bowed, grinding the back of his head into the pillow. In my mouth, his pipe tensed and convulsed, warning of a looming eruption. But I wasn't ready for him to cum yet, and -- immediacy aside -- I didn't think he was either.

I slowly pulled back, taking a watery-eyed eternity to draw my lips to his head, then released him fully. Sloppy wires of pearled spit spanned between my lips and his glans as I pulled away. The doomed structures glistened in the snowy light of the room as they stretched, before breaking and falling to the dark skin of Damon's thigh.

I cautiously stroked his trembling shaft with one hand, now more than ever not wanting to cause release. Damon's control returned encouragingly quickly. His breathing was almost normal, burdened only by the taxing blood flow directed to the rigid leviathan in my grasp. I gently licked and sucked his sack, kissing lightly up the side of his shaft as he watched and waited.

My lips paused halfway up his length; my hand also halted with its grip just below his head. I flicked my tongue, dancing the tip up and down his wide vein.

"Did you like fucking my pussy this morning?" I asked, resuming my light kisses on the lower half of his dick while my hand gently stroked the upper. Damon cautiously nodded 'yes'. I smiled coyly through my kiss. "My pussy needs you to fuck it right now. But do you promise to let me suck your cock again later?"

I didn't wait for the obvious response this time. While I was teasing Damon, I'd tormented my libido to the verge of physical anguish. My game was over. I walked on my knees toward the head of the bed and stopped in the nook between Damon's arm and ribs.