CHAPTER 30: The Virgin’s Christmas, Part 2

“… We have plenty in the car to stay warm with, food, blankets and such.”

My Master turns to me and Michael. “Well, folks. It looks as though we’re stuck here for the night. They’ll be clearing the track but they can’t get through until daylight.” Looking at me. “Charlotte. I’m so sorry. Michael and I had all sorts of plans for this evening, but it looks as though we’re scuppered by the weather. I think we’re going to be sleeping in the back of the wagon until the snowplough gets through in the morning.”

Biting my lip, and try my best to seem brave, I ask “Have we got plenty of blankets and things?”

“Oh, yes Charlotte. Really, don’t worry,” says Michael, placing a reassuring hand on mine. “I packed plenty, just in case. We have everything we need; hot drinks, food, blankets. We’ll be fine.”

“Speaking of hot drinks,” interrupts my Master. “Why don’t we all have some coffee? You brought coffee didn’t you Michael?”

“Oh yes.” Michael rummages in the back and produces a flask, then another. “Coffee... and hot chocolate and…” He rummages again, and with the air of a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat. “... hot buttered rum.”

“Well,” I say, impressed. “we’ve got the situation we’ve got. We’re not going anywhere. So, let’s enjoy it.”

Michael and my Master both look at me, a little disbelievingly.

I continue. “We have food and drinks to keep us going. Blankets... there’s three of us. I bet we can think of a way of keeping warm eh?” I wink at them and they both crack out laughing. They know exactly what I am suggesting.

I am trying to make light of our situation. However, whilst the car engine was running, the cab was warm and comfortable, but now, with the engine off, the temperature is dropping fast. My breath hangs in front of me in frosty clouds, and my fingers are chilling, the ends white and numb. I rub my hands together, blowing on them to get the blood flowing.

“Let’s get the blankets out and snuggle up together in the back,” I suggest.

Michael and my Master have not been exaggerating when they say that we have everything we need. The trunk, accessed from the back seat, because going outside now is unthinkable, produces enough warm rugs and covers for an Eskimo’s convention. With the seats down, and the rugs spread out, we all wriggle under together thick, fleecy layers, still fully clothed. Despite the car rocking in the wind, the whistling blizzard outside, we are snugly inside a kind of furry tent.

Michael’s provisions include a flask of soup, hot mulled wine, most of a Christmas dinner and, despite having to eat turkey and Christmas pudding cold, after a few minutes, a kind of party atmosphere develops. Hot buttered rum penetrates my cold fingers and I am toasty and warm right to my toes.

We lie together under the rugs, Michael to one side of me, my Master to the other. There is not quite enough room for my Master’s long frame to stretch out, but Michael and I are very comfortable. Sandwiched between my two lovers, I am positively cosy. We are all still fully dressed, but where there is a will...

My Master is pressed tight up against my back, one hand caressing the curve of my hip and waist through my clothes. Michael, facing me, has one hand on a breast, the other cupping my face as he kisses me. His fingers tangling into my long red locks, his kiss is languorous, leisurely. I enjoy the touch of his sensitive tongue exploring my teeth and lips; the slight roughness of a trace of his stubble, against my softer skin.

Feeling safe and secure, my libido informs me that it is time for some action. My pussy growing moist, my breathing growing deeper, I want my lovers inside me.

Behind me, my Master’s erection is pressing into the small of my back. A tall man, he is ‘big all over’ as they say, and everything is in proportion. Under the covers, he hitches up my skirt to reach my panties, tugging them down as I flex my hips and bend up my knees to allow their removal. He pulls them down past my ankles and they vanish somewhere into the hinterland of our warm nest.

Despite the cold outside, I am flushing hot, the blush of arousal spreading upwards over my breasts, and a shimmer of sweat washing my skin. In the enclosed space, I can smell both Michael’s piny, spicy scent and my Master’s more earthy, musky perfume, but most of all, I can smell myself, and my own growing arousal, as my pussy wells up hot, feeling loose and fluid.

Michael is trembling, his heart drumming against my chest. He lifts the front of my pullover and, his cheek resting on my breasts slips a hand down between my legs to tease my clit from hiding. The blankets fall to one side for a moment, exposing my breasts to the bitter cold outside, and causing my nipples to harden deliciously, puckering to stiff nubs.

Behind me, my Master is kneading and massaging my ass, his fingers digging in deeply, and with ravishing bites from his fingernails, pulling open the cheeks. A single finger circles my rear entrance, working me, relaxing the muscles before gradually easing inside.

My pussy is burning, clutching and jerking, and my hips are a-tremble. Michael eases his fingers in further, scissoring open my labia with parted fingers, and stroking my pulsing sex.

My Master lifts my leg, then eases it forward to rest over Michael’s thigh, allowing them both easier access to me, from front and rear, then slips a second finger inside me. Still working me gently, stretching the skin and the ring of muscle, he makes circles with the fingers, widening me further. A momentary wet chill tells me he had lube with him - in his pocket? - before the two fingers continue their orbits and are joined by a third, stretching me wider and more open all the time.

Finally, the fingers are withdrawn, and I feel him close up behind me again, probing at me with his cockhead.