Once upon a time there was this nice guy who had to go out in the cold to do some errands. It just so happens that one of those errands was close by to Beth Anne's place. It is cold. It is snowy. It is cold. It is windy. It is fucking cold!
Some guys here know that going from a place of warmth out into the fucking cold can make you have to piss. It also makes the little heat-seeking- moisture missile retract into the silo to keep warm. So to the boys retract upwards and inwards to keep warm. When you have to go, after coming in out of the cold, you literally have to dig them out with your own ice-cold fingers. They are reluctant as hell to cooperate so that the kidneys, who are NOT reluctant, can empty out.
A certain ginger-haired woman likes to help a guy piss. Usually, she does this with her husband in the shower. She has rarely had the chance to, "... take the car out of the garage ..." and aim from between the teeth of the zipper. She wants to practice. She will make it worth my while.
So, why not?
Beth Anne's fingers were 10 times colder than mine were. She must have been making ice cubes by hand or working on an ice sculpture. I don't know. I had dug the little guy out past the sharp teeth of the zipper and he hated my OWN cold fingers. It's safer if you get the guy out of the hangar past the teeth, anyway. So, I'm ready and Beth Anne steps in behind me and reaches around me with both arms and, "OH SHIT!"
What do I hear from behind me? An apology? Words of sympathy and concern? No. Giggling. I hear giggling!
Luckily, for her, I was standing in front of a wall-mounted urinal with a great deal of forgiveness for "pilot error" and she was able to coax the little guy out and we did our business. She even shook it three times to make sure all of the "dew was off of the lily" and I tucked it back into my pants. While I'm doing that, this tall ginger-haired babe of a woman was behind me with her hot breath on the back of my neck and running her tongue behind my ear. She was also running her fingertips up and down the front of me and onto my chest.
She is evil.
We both knew there wouldn't be any time for either of us for her to administer "mouth-to-dick" resuscitation on my frost-bitten dick. It was very convenient that a customer came into the shop right about then and she had to go help them. It didn't matter, I had to go back to the office anyway. I would wait, out of courtesy, to leave and say goodbye to her after her customer left. I waited and as I did, I saw what Beth Anne must have been working on that made her hands so cold. Some kind of flower looking thing in this cooler with the dry ice or something. It was really cold to the touch. I could hardly hold it. I did though. To get my hands acclimated to going back outside for that walk to the office.
I heard the cash register ring and then some talking and Beth Anne telling them goodbye. The front shop door to the outside closed. Beth Anne walked back down the hall towards where I was.
She was going to give me a hug and a peck on the cheek and wish me well on my way back to the office. I got my hands inside of her frock or smock or lab coat, what-the-fuck-ever, hooked my frozen thumbs in the waist bands of her slacks and panties and down they went to about her knees. The two chunks of ice at the end of my arms that looked like my hands grabbed a nice warm butt cheek each and the tips of my fingers slid down between and onto her slit from behind her. I think. I didn't have a lot of feeling in my fingers, but her nice warm ass and pussy did.
"OH SHIT!" coming out of her mouth sounds better in that English-Canadian-Irish-Australian-Scottish accent of hers. That was followed by, "YOU BUGGER!" (I think that is not a compliment if the tone of her voice is any indication.) I think she suspended "TOTAL ACCESS" for a few minutes when I tried to slip my cold hands back up and towards her breasts. She held her arms close to her side and I couldn't go any higher.
So, I went back down and grabbed her ass with both hands. She has nice warm buns. She had her arms draped around my neck, which is easy for her to do since she is taller by about three to four inches. Beth Anne gave me a nice big, tight hug, and pressed her pussy against me, probably to get it warmed up again or keep my chilly hands from slipping around front. She was smiling and ornery looking while we held each other.
"My hands weren't THAT cold," she tried telling me. "Were they?"
"Oh yeah," I told her truthfully. "What the fuck did you do, soak them in ice-water before you helped me piss?"
She shook her head no, and asked, "Will you be able to help with delivery tomorrow night, love?"
"More than likely," I told her.
"Splendid," and she smiled. "We can do enemas and maybe I can make amends."
"Sounds like a plan," I told her.
That's where we left it this morning because another customer or two walked into the shop by the sounds of that door bell. Yes, she pulled her panties and pants back up before going to see what they needed and, now, here I am writing about this morning.
I'll just add that, the quiet ones really are the ones to watch. Like maybe those two quiet ones in her coffee clutch.