Author’s note: This “Wicked Wednesday” piece has a bit of a “Movember” theme to it. I have had a moustache and goatee for the last fifteen years…more recently, I have gone to a full beard…as such, living in Canada I do know a thing or two about frozen moustaches. Second point, lately I have added music to these posts…but for the life of me, I am unable to find a good online version of the song I want. “Lost in the Snow” by Bruce Hornsby…the link is not a great version, but this is what was playing as this idea…*ahem*…sprung to mind.
One street lamp was our light in the cold snowy evening. Cold enough, in fact, that my moustache was now solid as a plastic comb.
We huddled together on the park bench for the warmth and I stroked her blonde hair. Her smile heated my night.
It had been our first snowfall today. Not much and, in typical fashion lately it would be all melted and gone by mid morning.
Snow has a funny effect on people. It tends to scare them. They will all bitch and complain about how cold it is…how slippery it is…how much they miss summer…Of course, in summer, they will bitch about needing better air conditioners…but that is a story for another day.
So here we sit on our park bench…the streetlight is the closest thing we have to moonlight…and it lights the ribbon of a path that is now covered in the white silk that is snow.
There is nothing more romantic than snow…frozen moustaches aside. Most seem to think snow is best experienced in front of a fireplace in a heated home with big sweaters and huddled on a leather couch. This scene, obviously, can be very romantic…but have you ever sat and listened to the snow falling? I’m not kidding…it begins snowing and everyone hurries off…but to me that romantic point is when you sit together watching the snow fall and hearing it almost like a sigh onto the ground. To feel the cold wet of the flakes on your face as they melt and become wet from your warmth.
She knows I like to listen.
My good girl has stopped shivering as I cuddle her and stroke her hair with her head in my lap. She wore a big red sweater under her red parka and, no doubt, even has long johns under those tight black jeans. Big wooly grey socks puff out from the top of her leather boots and a white scarf wrapped to protect her neck are there to complete the ensemble. With her long hair, she chooses not to wear a tuque.
I am not convinced she likes the snow and cold as I do. She tolerates this knowing that we will go back and make love in front of the fire-place. Something about the snow calms me so that, on nights like this, our coupling is tender and gentle…like those erotic film scenes on the campy late night films. There will be no bruises tonight…nothing rough. I will spend much time licking and teasing…my nature…but her pleasure as always is paramount. All of this, of course, after my moustache thaws…that would simply be torture.
Having that frozen moustache…well, not certain there is any way to describe it well unless experienced. It becomes wet hard bristles that scratch one’s own lips even.
My own sweater is warm, as are my jeans…and, no, I do not bother with long johns. Would be a waste considering. I do wear my own scarf and even my trapper hat. Regardless, I am a hearty sort.
…and yes, snow can be very romantic…but until you have sat in the falling snow, with a single street light, stroking her blonde hair and watching her lips part before slowly sucking your erection deep into her mouth…well, snow can be very erotic as well.
Such a good girl.