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The chill air of the little wooden shack way back on the lot of wooded land was still much warmer than the winter wonderland outside.� Their breath coming in short wisps of white softened the chill a bit, but it would be a bit cool for what they both had in mind.
The fall straw was still stiff and flecked with green � it would be at least a winter�s worth of fermentation before it turned the golden color and lost it�s starch � rustled and crunched beneath them as they looked into each other�s eyes and slowly undid the clasps on each other�s parkas.� Stopping only to quickly kiss her upturned lips, he quickly pulls her arms out of the heavy fleeced coat and lays it on the straw behind her.� The sun slants through the makeshift window of the shack � one time long ago it was a little chicken coop, complete with boxed shelves for the layers and smallish glass windows pointing east for the roosters.
He wears a t-shirt and jeans.� Once her parka comes off, a red flannelled shirt, buttoned low between her breasts and tucked into her jeans is the only protection from the slowly warming cold of the shack.� It�s her turn to pull his t-shirt up and over his head and as soon as his chest is exposed, she finds one of his nipples with her mouth and playfully bites.� He closes his eyes and presses the back of her head against him, moaning as she finds the other nipple.� She suckles and bites until both nubs are a cherry red and his soft moan fills the winter air.� She moves down and unbuttons his jeans, flashing him a wicked smile, and pulls them free of his legs.� Goose-bumps immediately break out on the skin of his thighs, as she pulls the boxers down and releases his rock hard dick.� She pushes him back onto the straw and slides atop him, grinding her jeaned pelvis into his naked crotch.� Her mouth finds his and she is the aggressor, her tongue driving deep into his mouth and having her way with his tongue.� Pulling away and sitting astride his chest, she pulls the thin leather straps from the little deerskin bag nestled in the folds of her parka.
Her lips pulled back in a wry playful smile, she takes first one or his wrists and then the other and pulls them back to the little stakes in the wall above his head.� In times past, it had been her that had felt the leather bite her wrists as they were lashed to these stakes � but today, he would be the one to fight the tightness of the straps.� He smiles up at her, the coolness of the air and the warmth of her body sending conflicting messages to his brain � the straps are send messages to another part of his body and that part wants attention desperately.
It is to his dick that she now slides her body down, her lips first licking the rim of his cap, then down the side to its base, and finally she takes his balls into her mouth.� He almost explodes then, the intense heat racing through the chilled flesh of his body, but he holds it, his fists clenching and un-clenching, his head thrashing from side to side.
She pulls away and this time reaches into the inner pocket of his parka and pulls out the pewter flask that was her Christmas present to him just last year.� She pats his chest affectionately with one hand, then unscrews the top of the flask and sips a mouthful of Jack.� This always makes her cough a bit, the warmth coating her throat and burning a trail down to her belly before radiating out in a warm ripple that makes her body tingle.
Still smiling, she bends over his chest and belly, and upturns the flask slightly.� Golden Jack, now a frigid stream of alcohol, splashes across his skin and he inhales sharply.� With slow precision, she returns the cap to the flask, watching the little rivers of whiskey pool in the center of his ribcage, the little hollow of his belly button.� When she can wait now more and is sure that the cold effects of the alcohol on his skin has reached its max, she leans forward and laps at the Jack with her tongue, the image of their cat lapping milk capering delightfully in her head.� His moans are back now and if his arms weren�t tied over his head, he would be directing her long brown haired head more urgently to the impatient little man between his legs.
For long minutes, her tongue caresses his body, long after the last taste of Jack fill it with tangy warmth.� She again finds his nipples and is more merciless this time than before.� His body reacts to the pain in much the same way as the tender pleasure.� Her hand has snuck down and is gripping his balls tightly, each squeeze punctuated by a harsh moan from deep in his throat.� As he opens his eyes, he sees her studying him intently and knows that his reactions are what is fueling her now.� She likes doing this to him, likes the power over him, likes to put him in discomfort a little, and she feeds on his moans and the look in his eyes.
Then her hand is out of his crotch and she slips off him.� He is left, for the first time, naked and without her warmth, his body racing on high, the gasps of soft white air clouding for the briefest of moments in the still crisp air.� Their eyes are locked and at this moment, he knows that there is a love that goes beyond simple words.
Part feeling and part substance, he looks into her eyes and knows that they are bound together as long as they both breathe, as long as they both crave the straps and games they play, the power that fuels them both when it is batted about.� In the instant before she slips out of her flannel shirt and slides her jeans off, in the moment before they make slow and passionate love in the chill of the November shed, deep in the heart of the heartland, in that magical point of time, they are one.
He closes his eyes, a smile forming across his lips.
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