Winter Lovers

My body is ripe. The days are cold. The nights are long. I long to be chosen, to be penetrated, to be protected.

I noticed the first twinge of arousal on Halloween. A hunger in my belly that isn’t for food. My hunger is almost insatiable now that winter solstice came and went.

I have my eye on the prize. He’s respected. He’s feared by some and desired by most others. He is hungry too.

I live at the top of the pecking order, so to speak. I have been mean and vicious to other girls when necessary, especially those who attempt to flirt with my man.

I am willing and yet I know my conquest of him will still take time and effort. I approach him playfully. I put my arm around his back when he stops for lunch. I walk next to him, standing close enough so our arms touch. My hints work.

We spend more and more time together. When we are alone we nuzzle, we cuddle, we play with each other’s hair. One night he tries to go too far with me, smelling me, tasting me — too fast, too soon. My harsh response returns him to the safety of play and petting.

Finally, my body knows it is time. I am hot, and wet, and starving. That evening, as we dance, I push my ass into him and give him a knowing look over my shoulder. He pushes back, looking at me to let me know he is anxious too.

Out in the snow, we begin to wrestle and play. We laugh and roll around in the soft, deep power illuminated only by the moonlight. I watch with amusement as he pees on a tree. I flash him my cunt and he can smell my readiness.

Scents of my sweet desire overtake him, and make every other male in a five mile radius from me wish they could do the same.

I turn and arch my back to him so he can see and have full access to my swollen, fiery cunt. His cock is long and thin and several shades darker than his skin. Despite desires coursing through his body and mine, his cock is closer to supple softness than to rigid engorgement.

He approaches me from behind, grasping my hip bones as he slides his docile cock inside me. It does not stay docile for long. As he furiously thrusts himself inside of me, I feel his cock elongating toward my cervix, expanding against the walls of my vagina. Feeling the swelling of the head of his penis pleasures me most. His knot rubs tender spots inside of me.

He pumps hard and fast and long. Just how I like it. I howl into midnight air and orgasm as I feel him ejaculate into me.

Just as he was slow to come to full erection, he is slow to return to pliability. We stay entangled, his cum dripping out of me, despite me being filled by his still raging cock.

I have not had enough of his cock and he has not had enough of my smell. We meet in these same woods everyday, twice or three times a day, for weeks.

We wrestle. We laugh. We kiss. We fuck. I come. He comes. We stay entangled. We meet again, and again. We cannot get enough. Our hunger insatiable.

Everyone knows and yet no one disrupts our trysts in the woods.

And then one morning, the spell breaks. I can no longer smell my pussy’s perfume, and neither can he.

Spring has come and flowers, insects, and song birds are doing enough fucking to make up for the sudden cessation of our union under the trees.

Our ravenous lust for one another dissipates as quickly as snow melts on a sunny spring day. My hunger is fed and my belly is full. I acquiesce as we return to our previous states of independence and inattentiveness to each other.

A few months later, my belly empties again… but this time it is because I welcome two small cubs into the den. I spend spring and summer feeding, nurturing, teaching and protecting. Fall arrives and I smile as I recognize the faintest feeling of sexual hunger returning to my belly once again.

Erotica by Silky
February 2016


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