"I wish you wouldn't smoke in here."

You glance over at me, one eyebrow cocked. "Well I'm hardly gonna go out there and do it, am I?"

I follow your gaze to the snowstorm outside, a swirling, eddying mass of white that seems as impenetrable as the black night beyond. I shrug.

"No... but we're gonna lose our deposit if the place smells of smoke when we leave."

With your free hand you reach down and scratch your pubes, while blue-gray smoke trails lazily from your lips. "Fuck 'em. We'll air out the place before we go." A beat as you suck on the cigarette. Then, sighing, you lean over and grind the half-finished thing into the ash tray. You give me a pointed look, and I smile cheerfully.

"Thanks! Those things give me a headache, anyway."

"Mh." Grunting, you get on your knees and half walk, half crawl over to where I am sprawled on a blanket, laptop open in front of me. Your hand finds my calf and travels up to my thigh as you drape yourself next to me, and despite the smell of acrid nicotine still emanating from your mouth, I turn my head and grace you with a quick peck on the lips.

"What're you doing?" Your voice has an edge of husky masculinity that I love, and I smile as my eyes return to the computer, fingers darting nimbly across the keyboard.

"Writing."

"Oh yeah? What about?" You hand has crept up to my ass now, and the sensation of your thumb nestling in the ridge between my cheeks sends a tiny shiver down my spine. I shift slightly on top of the rug, reveling in my own nakedness, and pause my typing to turn the screen slightly towards you.

"My next book. I figured it was about time."

You peer in, hand still cradling my butt, and your lips move slightly as you murmur along with the words on the screen, your brow furrowed in concentration.

"Hmn.. 'The lace of her petticoat fell away to reveal pale, naked skin, her cheeks flush with excitement as she eyed his throbbing...' Huh. Okay."

I laugh and pull the laptop away from you, a faint blush etched on my fair cheeks. "It's just a first draft."

"You're writing porn." I can hear the amusement in your voice, and your hand gropes my ass a little tighter as I demur. "You dirty girl!"

"It's not porn!" I squirm in your grasp, but make no effort to pull away. "It's just smut, there's a difference..!"

"Uh-huh, sure. So what's this smut about, then?"

I make a moue and roll onto my side, forcing your hand to shift to my hip as I face you. Outside, the howling wind hurls snow every which way like static on a television screen, but thanks to the roaring fire, the inside of the cabin is nice and warm. I lean on my elbow and let my nakedness speak for itself as I try to put into words the ephemeral outline of a plot I have dreamed up.

"It's... about a woman, Lady Bridget, who is getting married to a Lord from another country--"

"A period piece, then," you interject helpfully. I nod with a smirk.

"Exactly. And she is less than thrilled with it, 'cause she is in love with her childhood friend, Roderick, with whom she had something of a fling when they were both young."

"Victorian fuck buddy. Gotcha."

I laugh, but choose to ignore the comment. "Anyway, she is sent off to live at this guy's manor, and obviously, things don't go well. She refuses to let him touch her, and he, in turn, starts taking his frustration out on the maids working for him."

You cock an eyebrow. "Fucking the servants? How risque."

"Mh, not quite. More like, abusing them verbally. He's not a bad guy, I don't think, just.. frustrated, really."

You laugh and roll onto your back, folding your hands behind your head as your soft cock flops along your belly. My eyes are irresistibly drawn to its potent heft, but I try to ignore it; like me, you are simply enjoying a time of no clothes and no responsibilities.

"Makes sense. Dude gets a wife, he wants to get it on. I get it."

"Yes." I nod, and peer back at the screen. "But she hates him because she thinks he is only interested in putting a baby in her belly, and she doesn't want to carry his child-- she still loves Roderick, after all."

You close your eyes and sigh softly. "Doesn't sound like much of a porno, if you ask me."

"It's not," I groan, "a porno! It's a smutty novel, there's a difference. And besides, they do end up doing it."

"Yeah?" This seems to rouse your interest. "When?"

"I don't know. I haven't exactly written that part yet. But I know why. And how."

"Fine, then. Why?"

"Because," I say, panning my eyes to the snowstorm outside, "he offers to do it in a way that can't possibly get her pregnant."

"Condoms?"

"Victorian condoms? Hardly."

"They had condoms back then." You sound surprisingly defensive at my skepticism. "But fine. How?"

I hesitate for a brief moment. "Well... anal."

At this, your eyes open, and you look up at me with honest surprise.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah." I nod. "It makes sense..."

"But you've never... I mean, never--" You seem to flounder for words for a bit. I shrug, and try to ignore the fluttery feeling of nervous excitement in my stomach.

"No, but.. maybe I've thought about it."

Another beat, while you try to process what I'm saying. Ultimately, your reply is less than suave.

"For real?"

"Mm-hmm.." I nod, a slight smile creeping along the edge of my lips. "Maybe."

You blink, and it's impossible for me not to notice the way your cock has already started to perk up at the mere mention of this topic.

"With me?"

I laugh and swat your chest. "Who else, you idiot? You think I'm being unfaithful?"

"No, but--" You seem to struggle with what to say, but your cock has already told me everything I need to know. Thrusting the laptop away, I crawl down to where the tip of your cock is nudging against the edge of your belly button, and the warm taste of salt on my tongue seems to quiet your thoughts. Whatever the case, all you manage to say is a soft "Ohh--!"

For a little while, the sound of the snow storm and the crackling fire mix with a flurry of soft, wet slurps as I capitalize on your stunned surprise, but then your hand comes down and tugs me gently off of your cock and into a sweet kiss. I can taste the cigarette on your breath, but you can probably taste yourself on mine, so I think it all evens out in the end.

"Are you sure?" Your voice is little more than a purr, excitement mingling with the fear of vocalizing this doubt in case I seize on it and shatter your dreams. My response is another kiss, and a cheeky grin when our lips finally part. You groan and lean back, your hand reaching around to grab my ass with relish.

"You're a dirty girl, you know that?"

I smirk and shrug. Then I nod.

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