Just five or six miles more thought Angela.
The huge snowflakes swirled over the bonnet and hit the windscreen, where it built up outside the area swept by the wipers. Twice before she had stopped to clear the screen as the wiper arc got smaller and smaller.
The driver found herself mesmerized by the snow’s movement, having difficulty in seeing beyond it. The speedometer informed her – 10 miles per hour. Face close to the windscreen she peered forward, it was difficult to see beyond the flying white. Headlamps had been turned off in favour of fog lamps to reduce the glare. Time after time, even at that speed ghostly objects would suddenly appear and she would wrench at the wheel or stab at the brakes in a futile attempt to avoid them.
Angela congratulated herself that she had prepared well for her journey; two flasks of coffee, sandwiches, high-energy food bars, thermal blanket, snow-chains and a tartan rug. Also carried in the boot, summer and winter, were a king-sized sleeping bag and a thermal-plastic car inner tent which served as a modesty area for changing and, at a push, sleeping in the car.
Thirty minutes ago she had been sure that none of the items would be needed; now she wasn’t too sure, although the prospect of spending night alone in a blizzard filled her with apprehension.
Speed dropped further as her aching eyes refused to focus on anything remotely like the road. She had neither the will nor ability to avoid another shadow that sprung up to the left of her vehicle. The impact surprised her. The vehicle lurched to the right and stopped, she pressed the accelerator but the front wheels just spun on the icy surface.
In desperation she selected reverse gear and pressed the accelerator, again the wheels spun. As they did her left foot gently pressed the brake to slow them down to try to gain purchase between tyres and the surface. There was a total lack of grip. Angela applied the hand-brake and sat back in the seat and took stock of the situation in which she now found herself.
Sat-nav indicated that the car was on the main road with the nearest house more than a mile away. Fuel was as yet not a problem with the indicator showing the tank three quarters full. Food and drink was sufficient to take her through the night. What was vital was to keep warm, and in that respect her preparations had, or should, serve her well. Pressing the buttons on the AC she raised the demand for heat. The cabin was flooded with warmth.
Angela was aware that the engine would provide heat only if it could continue to run, and it would run only if it could breathe, if the exhaust-pipe became blocked with snow the motor would cease to function.
What startled her was a grotesque figure emerging from whatever had stopped her car’s progress. It was large and appeared to be trying to fly; huge appendages beating the air. It screamed like a banshee as it moved towards her vehicle. Instinctively she hit the button on the door panel and heard the reassuring clunk of the doors locking. Its hairy head appeared at the window, the huge mouth was distorted, eyes bulged as it screamed, clawing at the glass.
“fucking… short… sighted… crazy… cow …” words filtered through the glass.
Angel kept her cool and summed up the being. “Prick!” she mouthed.
That stopped it in mid scream and transformed it into something almost resembling a man.
“Oh gawd” thought Angela, “White van man!” “WVM”. One of those guys that drive a large or small, white van (often coloured too), who considers he owns the whole road system, is the only good driver on the road, and wonders why people think that HE should abide by speed limits. When tailgating (when isn’t he?) his van is so close that he appears to be sat in the rear seats of your vehicle.
WVM was dressed as appropriate to his kind, considering that it was winter; garishly printed t-shirt and dirty jeans with holes at the knees. How strange that he was soaked to the skin and in the first stages of hyperthermia!
Angela felt a pang of sympathy as WVM’s face turned to that of lost little boy.
“Don’t do that to me” she silently pleaded, “go back to your own arrogant world where you reign supreme”.
Being a woman the practicalities of the situation came to the fore. If he died of cold at her door it might take some explaining. Releasing the lock on the passenger door she beckoned him in, better beside her than behind. WVM struggled in and sat grinning as much as his chattering teeth would allow.
“Door!” hissed Angela.
“Shut the fucking door dick-head!” screamed Angela.
“Oh yeah, sorry” he grinned.
A full second passed as he attempted to move.
Realising that he was too cold to move she leaned passed him and hauled the door shut.
Whether his sniff was caused by his runny nose or his appreciation of her perfume she decided not to inquire.
“Christ you look a right dog in them clothes”
“In those clothes” she corrected. “And I seem to be better prepared than you”.
“You think so too, eh?” His grin was getting weaker, he started to shiver uncontrollably.
Angela immediately regretted her outburst; poor man would get very ill if she didn’t act quickly.
Tearing open the package she released the plastic thermal blanket and quickly wrapped it around him. Out of the thermos she poured a small amount of tea and handed it to him.
“Sip it because it’s hot” she warned.
Dutifully he sipped, his face contorted. “Shee… it!” he complained. “You might have had the decency to make coffee”.
This man was so obviously suffering from mild hypothermia but he still wanted to be the funny guy trying not to show weakness in front of a woman. She raised her hand as if to give him a backhand across the face as his mum had no doubt done many times.
“This is not the time to joke around, drink the tea then eat one of these energy bars”. She tore off the wrapper and handed the bar to him.
He huddled in the blanket, sipping tea and biting into the bar; his eyes stared blankly ahead.
“God forgive me” prayed Angela to herself, “but he actually looks a bit of a blonde hunk.
WVM still shivered, his skin was pale. He glanced at his companion, and seeing her studying him looked ahead again.
“Like what you see?” he demanded.
“Look, I can kick you out of here to crawl back to your white van to freeze you bollocks off and die, so don’t push your luck!” Her tone gave finality to the statement.
“Bet you’re a school teacher”
Angela moved to open the door.
“Bloody hell you would too” He seemed surprised.
“Drink some more tea and rub some warmth into your hands”
With exaggerated movements he attempted to rub one hand with another while trying to drink from the cup, almost spilling the contents. With an exasperated sigh she grabbed his free hand and began rubbing the fingers.
“Yanno this is probably technical rape” he claimed”.
“Don’t flatter yourself” she rebuffed him. “Look, your situation is serious, you are suffering from mild hyperthermia and we have to get some warmth in you. Get out of those wet clothes”.
“Yanno? I don’t feel like sex at the mo darlin, too cold, sorry, ask me later ok?”
‘I am deadly serious; the heat is causing the moisture in your clothes to evaporate thus reducing your body temperature. If it continues as it is you will be dead in an hour”.
Her stern tone and concerned look told him to be sensible and do as he was told. Pushing the blanket aside he tried to pull off his wet t-shirt but he did not have the strength. Angela pulled the garment over his head. As she grasped the clasp to his jeans a ready quip was on his lips but he couldn’t find the strength to speak. He just undid the clasp and pulled down the zip. It was a struggle in the confined space to get off the jeans but eventually she succeeded.
Angela felt strangely guilty that her mind wandered to thoughts of what lie in the small underpants he wore, and where would she look as she stripped them off his tiny hips. She knew damned well of course!
“Oh please” she thought. “You are an adult woman of twenty-nine years, well versed in the male human anatomy; a cock is a cock, penis, dick etc”.
“Can you manage your …” she indicated the briefs. Predictably he shook his head. Sighing, she grasped the garment between her finger and thumbs as if they might be a baby’s dirty nappy. He frowned.
“Oi!” “They were clean on this morning”.
“That is why I am actually touching them” Angela retorted.
It was ridiculous but Angela found her heart beating a little faster as she pulled down the waistband. The lack of blood flow to all his extremities caused by the cold had caused his manhood to shrink to a sad little bit of flesh. It did have potential and she would be sure to keep a metaphorical eye on it. As to be expected of such an arrogant person, he had shaved his pubic area and balls. Having divested him of all his clothes, Angela now wrapped him in the tartan blanket and then the thermal plastic film.
A glance at the engine gauge indicated that the temperature was approaching the point when she would need to switch off and check that the radiator area was clear of snow. As Angela was concerned that he was not regaining any significant amount of colour in his face she made the decision to put up the inner-tent to retain more of the heat in the car.
The item un-packed she set about installing it to various points in the car interior but found that all the clothes that she was wearing were obstructing her movements. Off came the knitted hat and the thick coat.
WVM was appreciative. “Bugger me, you’re a female!” “Pity about the straw on your head”. “Natural blonde I hope”. “Bet you got tits under them jumpers”.
Without qualms or guilt, she punched his upper arm hard.
There was no verbal response and only a pained look on his face indicated that he had accepted that he had made a mistake.
With the tent secured she folded the rear seats and laid out the sleeping bag.
“Get in” she commanded. He did as he was told and zipped it around him.
Angela’s next task was to clear snow from both the radiator and exhaust; for which she had to again don those items she had discarded.
Snow had built up all around the vehicle making it difficult to open a door. Having forced her way out the wind took her breath away and the snow stung her eyes making it difficult to see. Clawing at the snow-covered bodywork she made her way to the rear.
“Damn! “Which side is the pipe?” she screamed.
Angel kicked at the area that she thought, luck was on her side, her foot hit the pipe and she cleared an area. A gust of wind plucked away her hat and instantly her head was covered in wet snow. Desperately she tried to reach the front of the vehicle but the conditions were impossible. Her pants were soaked through to the waistband, her feet saturated.
Struggling though the deep drifts had forced snow up and inside her coat soaking jumpers and top. Her struggles had almost exhausted Angela and she barely made it back into the car.
White Van Man greeted her return with a feigned scream.
“Shut the fuck up, I’m trying to keep us alive if you hadn’t noticed!” Her voice wavered; she was on the verge of tears.
“Sense of humour failure” he muttered. She chose to ignore it.
Now it was she who began to shiver. Quickly the coat was stripped off followed by a jumper which was used to partially dry her hair. Next the remaining jumper and top leaving her in a bra. It was as well the car was in darkness. Off came the boots, socks and pants, she hesitated at the panties but they too were wet so they too came off.
“Unzip, I’m joining you”.
“Not if you are bleedin’ wet you’re not”. Angela lashed out at the source of the voice; there was a satisfying smack of hand on face.
“Fuck!” The sleeping bag zip opened; a moment’s hesitation then she squeezed in.
Angela laughed to herself as her cold, naked body slid over his warm, naked body and he gasped at the shock of the cold, but more so the suprise of her nakedness.
“Ohhhhhhh” he murmured.
“Touch me with your dirty hands or equally dirty cock and I’ll rip your balls off, understand?” she hissed.
He understood totally and believed her.
They lie back to back and he wriggled from time to time to change where, on his now warm body the frozen parts of Angela touched him. She felt that the cold had seeped into her bones and considered making the effort to get the second flask of tea.
“I’m not getting warm” she said more to herself than to him.
“Don’t I know it, I was getting warm now you’re making me cold again” moaned WVM.
“Not that you are bothered, but my name is Roger”.
Angela didn’t reply but lie shivering. In the confines of the sleeping bag he found it difficult but with a struggle turned to face her. Wrapping his arms around her he took hold of her hands so as to avoid his hands touching any sensitive area. She struggled weakly.
“I told you …” her voice trailed off.
“Shut up!” “To use you own words … I’m trying to save our lives”.
Thoughts came to her very slowly and through the fuzz in her brain she became aware that they needed each other.
The warm of his body began to reduce the cold in hers and she snuggled back into his arms.
As she warmed up and her thinking became clearer a fact became apparent, there was a hardness pressing into her backside. Angela wriggled.
“Sorry, but whatever that is, it’s sticking in my back”.
He sighed. “I’ll turn around then”.
Angela gripped his hands.
“Just move it a bit”.
“It’s joined to me where the f… do I put it?”
“Fuck …”she completed the word for him.
Angela placed one of his hands on her belly; it still felt cold.
“Warm it up” she demanded.
“And lose my balls, no way”.
She reached behind her and cupped his balls. His body tensed.
“Please, your balls are safe”.
Tentatively he passed his palm over her midriff; his balls remained attached. Rather than rubbing to achieve heat through friction Roger decide to caress and hope for ‘inner’ heating. His hands were those of a manual worker and were rough and calloused. Roger worked them over her belly then her sides, circling, smoothing and kneading. As he caressed down from her ribs and over her tight midriff he pushed further and encountered a hint of stubble, lingering there just above Angela’s mound.
Roger had not seen her naked body as the interior lights were off before she had stripped off the wet clothes. With his arms encompassing her body he was able to judge that her frame was quite small, in fact he would say thin; stomach was quite firm and he guessed that she visited a gym. His hand had tarried too long and she put it into motion again. Leaning back her head onto his shoulder she gently squeezed his balls and tutted.
“Your belly is warm enough now”.
He started to withdraw his hand but she stopped him by grasping it, and after a pause, placing it on a breast. Roger was impressed, the firm flesh filled his hand with a little over and a slight movement of a couple fingers found a nipple that was becoming erect.
As she placed his hand on her breast it pleased her that the cock that pressed against the hand holding his balls, twitched and grew harder. Releasing his balls she grasped his cock; he drew in a breath. “My arm is breaking” she complained.
“As long as my balls are safe, turn around and ease the pain”, he grinned. He wished there was some light so he could see her face although he knew that she was a blonde looker.
Face to face they grasped each other tightly, her breath in his face smelled so sweet and he moved his lips to hers. She responded with a kiss that had the hair on the back of his neck bristling.
Angela was startled by his moustache; never before had she been kissed by a wirebrush. After the initial surprise she quite enjoyed the sensation and wondered why on earth she hadn’t kissed one before.
As their kissing became hotter and their tongues explored each other’s mouths, Angela found it excited her to imagine his wire brush on her labia; would it tickle or make her sore.
“This is going to kill me” he gasped somewhat breathlessly as they broke a particularly long and passionate embrace.
“Not before you satisfy me” she exclaimed.
Angela manoeuvred herself under Roger, guiding him between her thighs.
“Jeez, don’t panic, I meant that I can’t tell my mates about shagging a real posh bird in a snow storm”. “If I’m to satisfy such a hot bird, I shall have to use all the tricks in the book”.
He kissed her long and hard, thrusting his erection over her pubic bone. Down her neck, over her chest to those firm, peachy breasts he kissed, sucked and nibbled. Sharp teeth clamped firmly on each nipple in turn, then lips sucked at them to ease any slight pain. Lips skipped down each rib, landing only briefly before moving on. At her navel his tongue delved and probed causing her to giggle, arching her back to force her belly hard against his face.
At each move she was aware of his moustache, scratching and tickling as it moved down her body. She could hardly wait for it to arrive at her pussy, so much so that it was with considerable restraint that she stopped herself pushing his head there.
Roger sensed that the scent emanating from her honey pot indicated that this was not a case of survival but of raw lust. He was embolden by this; no longer concerned that she would perform one swift action making him a eunuch.
To celebrate this new found courage his indulged his tongue, lapping at her shaven mound finally dipping it into her cleft. As he imagined, she tasted sweeter than honey but with that unforgettable tang of a babe ready, willing and wanting. His tongue wormed its way quickly to her clitoris and as it found it she reacted by letting out a sharp “Oooh”. Her hips bucked driving his tongue harder onto her eager button.
Roger was an experienced lover, or so he would claim. True, he had had a number of short-term relationships; the women soon left when they discovered that his world revolved around Play-station gaming, drinking and sex. No doubt if pressed they might be persuaded to admit that when sober and concentrating, his abilities were to be recommended.
In the confines of the sleeping bag Roger found it annoying that Angela’s legs would not fully spread. She too wanted more space for her lover to access her now soaking and demanding pussy. With one swift movement the fastening was unzipped, they were far too sexually hot to notice the cold.
Any thoughts that he might have entertained of being subtle were removed by Angela’s hands either side of his head guiding and urging him to pleasure her. It was a pleasure for him, licking and sucking at her fully blood-engorged labia, inserting his tongue deep inside her. For her the delicious touch of his moustache. A light flick of the finger on her clitoris caused her to buck her hips, moan and encourage him to repeat it.
“Oh my god, nooooo you bugger”, she moaned. “Where the fuck did you learn that?” the question was purely rhetorical, all she wanted was more of the same. As Angela built towards an orgasm he would stop his ministrations at her pudenda, kissing slowly up her body to her mouth, exchange passionate kisses then back down, urged on by her hands, to bring her to the climax she so urgently desired.
After the first she expected the quick, frustrating fuck that so often happened with her previous partner. Roger had other ideas. He allowed her to relax by kissing her, whispering obscenities to which she giggled. Then he turned her over, massaged and kissed her body as if in worship, before once again attending to her needs.
After another shattering climax Angela needed her man, his manhood, inside her.
“Fuck me, my darling van man”, she emphasized the word fuck.
“Oh bollocks, do I have to?” he teased.
“Please, or I’ll die of sensory overload before getting this inside me”, she grabbed at his penis.
“But…but…I’ve barely started” he boasted.
Her hand on his balls convinced him that she would wait no longer.
Between her thighs there was no need for a guiding hand, his cock easily found her pussy; the heat and wetness attracted the bulbous head. As he eased forward he was mildly surprised to find, despite her high level of arousal, that his cock encountered resistance. Despite his claims to the contrary he was well aware that he was no better endowed than the next man in the ‘size’ stakes. Pushing further caused her to moan loudly; her vulva gripped his cock as tight as any hand.
Roger prided himself on his ability to delay ejaculation thus providing any woman with the maximum of pleasure.
After just a few thrusts it was apparent that this time he would not last. Angela was hot, wet and tight and she appeared to be able to grip him at will.
“Geeze, you’re gonna make me cum too soon! He complained.
“Don’t worry” she soothed, “We have until they find us”. Her legs wrapped around him pulling him deep within her.
“Shit, I can’t cum…”
“You are impotent..” she panicked.
“No! I don’t have protection!
“Oh silly pratt, you dont think I would let you fuck me silly if I wasn’t protected?”
No more was said, he fucked her to the best of his ability; they kissed until their lips became numb.
“Oh shit, I’m cumming” he groaned.
“Pump me, fuck me you brute, cum hot and hard for me” she encouraged. He did as commanded.
Their lovemaking explored old and new; his preference; hers. They got kinky. Eventually they exhausted themselves and, locked in each other’s arms they fell asleep.
The tea in the flask was still hot, the sandwiches uneaten, the energy bars still in their wrappers when rescuers found the lovers’ bodies; frozen in a final embrace.
Just five or six miles more thought Angela.