Snow Mesmerism

She told him about her friends - and her boyfriend. She was completely open about him and her feelings. He asked intimate details of their sex life finding her words stimulating. Not a blush, not a circumlocution. No vagueness or evasion. He learnt what she liked and exactly what they did and had done together. It was almost as if he was seeing them 'at it.'

"I am sure you are missing the sex."

"Am I? Yes, I think I am."

He had not quite phrased it as a question, he realised. And the temptation was to push it further.

"You are, you are certainly feeling that!"

To see the girl's knees rub together was a delight. Willet stood, putting the mug to one side. Had he too been naked his erection would have been so there in the room, so showing just how much he appreciated what he was seeing and hearing.

Remarkable to be arousing a girl simply by telling her to be aroused!

"I'll get you some soap." Willet walked stiffly to fetch the carbolic. His penis felt iron like in his trousers.

"Sorry, it's not really a woman's soap."

It was not, not at all. Willet liked the clean smell but it was hardly rose or lavender. Nice, though, to see the girl washing her body with the big green bar, wonderful to see her unconcernedly putting her hand between her legs to wash her 'bits.' He had thought of doing the washing himself. Perhaps stripping to the waist so as not to get his sleeves wet. But he had thought that perhaps a bit too much. She was not a little girl - hardly. Not that his thoughts were not increasingly going to the idea of touching her, touching her intimately later.

"Come on let's get you dry."

The water cascaded from the naked girl, running as she stood up in the tin bath waiting for Willet to bring the towel. He reached and wrapped it around her, even rubbing her a little through it, even daring to rub her breasts through the towelling.

He took a deep breath - he was almost coming in his pants - and let Eleanor finish the drying.

Wonderful to see the revealed naked young woman as she towelled herself. He wrapped her in the second and dry towel from the top of the Aga. What a thing to have in his kitchen, a girl naked but for a towel wrapped around her.

"More scordy?"

The girl sat in the armchair again.

"I'm not going to waste the water. I'll take a bath now. You won't mind."

It was not a question. He was telling her she would not mind.

"And, and I have an erection. You won't mind that either. I cannot of course help that."

"I don't mind! Show me."

Willet was going to - and he was going to enjoy being naked and like that with the girl watching. He also was going to enjoy the bath and emptied boiling water from the kettle into the bath, He liked it to be hot. Then Willet undressed.

It had been years since he had been naked with a woman, still less showed his erection but there it certainly was, not hanging there but pointing upwards with peeled knob.

"It's quite big," said the girl.

Volunteered information and, given her earlier honesty, presumably her real thought. It was rather gratifying!

It was no less prominent when Willet rose from his bath. He had not hurried over that. Just sitting, luxuriating in the hot water had been no less a pleasure than exposing himself sexually to the girl. Tempting, as he dried himself, to invite - not tell - the girl to hold it. But he did not rush things. He very much hoped she would be warming his bed that night.

Lovely to see her watching him. He did not hide his manliness as he rubbed the towel over himself. In a way all so normal. A man and a woman bathing in a warm kitchen and a manly erection on display ready to do those things men and women do. Lovely to walk across to his clothes like that, across the flags, with the girl watching, naked and with his penis hard and standing.

Fresh underclothing but otherwise Willet redressed. He could not, alas, stay wrapped in a towel or dressing gown. He would need to be out later. Instead, dressed, Willet cooked supper as the girl sat warmly wrapped in her towel and talked. It was somewhat a picture of domestic ordinariness and comfort. A warm kitchen, the smell of frying onions and two people, a man and woman, talking. Willet was happier than he had been for years.

Eleanor seemed as relaxed as anything over supper. Happy to settle back in her chair afterwards whilst Willet went out to the farm. There had been no let up in the snow. It was falling steadily and getting deeper. The Land Rover was already piled high on its roof with the stuff and, as he looked up towards the lane, he could see the depth of snow in the short track to the gate meant, if there was more snow and drifting in the night, the road itself would be impassable but for a snow plough. The council would not be sending one of those up onto the fells, not with the town and the 'A' road to clear. He could have done something with the tractor but he had better things to do and not the time to spend days on that. They were snowed in. Willet smiled as his breath froze in front of him. Snowed in with a very attractive, rather sweet girl for quite a few days - things could be a lot worse!

Willet stirred and made to get out of bed. It was dark as it always was when he arose in winter but finding a warm naked body in his way was just not usual at all. He was tempted to try and repeat the performance of the night before there and then, but the farmer in him took priority and he carried on out of the bed. He might well come back for that before breakfast.

It was cold - freezing - outside. The snow had ceased and the skies cleared. The moon was up and gave a ghostly look to the farmyard. Away he could see the fells gleaming monochrome white with the snow. Before him his own breath and immediately beside him came his dogs, tails wagging and pleased to see him. Good things dogs. Faithful and trusting. Always almost ecstatic with pleasure at seeing him. Pack animals. They liked being with the pack and especially the pack leader - Willet. It was good to be ever welcomed like that. They trusted him implicitly. It had been good coming back to Mary at first and to see her pleasure at his appearance. That had changed.

The night before, Eleanor had been trusting but that was a product of the falling snow. A misguided trust... though he had looked after her and seen her safe. Made her warm and, he smiled ruefully at the memory, ensured there was something hot inside her.

It was cold, very cold but Willet was used to that. He worked steadily wrapped in his old clothes. There was nothing modern about them. The old overcoat, so thick as to almost stand on its own without a body within it. The coat had been another thing handed down. Its wool had kept more than one Dodd not just warm but alive when stuck out on the fells. It could do with a brush, though.

Pulling his boots off in the kitchen and leaving puddles on the floor, Willet put the kettle on and made tea. He could hear nothing from the bedroom. Perhaps Eleanor was still asleep. Should he undress and get back into bed with her or simply bring her some tea? The man in him won and, naked, he carried the tea, one mug in each hand. He was erecting as he reached the bedroom door.

And how he had erected the night before! He had come back into the kitchen though the back door stamping the snow from his boots. It had been lovely and warm in there: such a contrast with the cold outside. And there had been Eleanor sitting where he had left her, wrapped in her towel. He had smiled. "Time for bed, I think." He had already placed a couple of water bottles in his bed, even changed the sheets before doing so. Not quite something he did as part of a spring clean but certainly they were not changed as often as when Mary had been there.

"You'll be warmer in my bed. That'll be OK." It wasn't a question.

"Warmer, yes."

"Best to cuddle up, keep each other warm."

"Cosy and snug."

"You would like that."

"Yes, yes, I would."

He recalled not quite believing his luck. That the scene was real and not simply some idle day dream - or wet night dream. Not only had he an almost naked young girl in his kitchen but it seemed the snow had taken her unknowingly into a hypnotic trance where she was amenable - pliable - to suggestions. There had been guilt at what he was doing: but not a lot.

"You've told me you like to make love before sleep." And she had, she had been candid in response to his questions about her and her boyfriend back in Canterbury. He had enjoyed asking the questions earlier in the kitchen and her candid answers. It had been sexually stimulating.

"Yes, I do."

"We'd better do that then too. Make you comfortable and sleepy."

"Please. I'm, I'm already... I'm ready for that."

And Willet remembered how he had told her she was feeling sexual in the bath. She must have stayed like that all through the evening. Nicely wet and ready - ready to admit a man.

She had stood and Willet had lead her to his bed. So lovely unwrapping her and helping her into the bed and see her naked body slide between the sheets - his sheets. Her pleasure at finding the bed already warmed with the hot water bottles. She had watched him undress and seen his manhood already extended.

"It is big," she said again, "I like that." Her eyes had been on it.

Willet had got onto the bed with her and turned to reach for the switch to the bedside light. As he plunged the room into darkness he felt wet lips engulfing his knob. He froze, half in the bed and still half out. Caught between the warmth of the bed and the chill of the bedroom by the feel of soft, wet, feminine lips stroking gently over his penis head. Such a feeling! One he had not experienced for many a year. That thing women do to a man. Tender and lovely - taking his sexual organ in their mouths.

He had held still for a couple of minutes whilst Eleanor had slowly fellated him and then he had slipped down into the warm bed and drawn her to him. A soft and warm female body in his arms, her breasts against his and his erection pushed against her stomach. It was wet from her mouth. They kissed. It was lovely just lying there, naked, with his penis pressed against the girl and just to kiss. Mouths open and tongues together. Straightforward, simple kissing like young lovers might do. Only their nakedness and the feel of a mouth wetted penis against flesh reminded Willet this was something more than just kissing.

Willet had not hurried and nor had Eleanor. So nice to be tucked up in a warm bed, safe from the snow and cold outside. Out beyond the darkened farmhouse was not another soul for miles. Sheep on the fells had taken shelter as they might. Some slowly being buried in the snow, though safe for a time in their woolly coats. And still the snow fell, but down in the farmhouse, in the old bedroom two people lay warm and entwined moving closer and closer to when the man would enter the woman's body, enter far inside it, his blood engorged penis inside her wet, slippery vagina.

Up on the fells the ewes had been put to the tups back in November - they had been served - down in the farmhouse it was Willet's turn to play the ram. There had been fondling and sucking of breasts, his fingers had roamed and Eleanor had held him whilst they kissed but now Willet moved onto Eleanor's body and her thighs opened to receive him. Such a feeling as he slipped inside: like they had slipped into the warm bed so Willet slipped into Eleanor and began to move.

Unhurried but purposeful and Willet had felt - and heard - Eleanor come before he did. Only when he had fully subsided did he roll from her.

They lay close, side by side and soon Willet heard Eleanor's breathing soften to that regularity of sleep. He lay there as content as he had been for years. He had hardly expected that outcome from the day when he had awoken that morning but, there again, he had not expected the change in weather, even if dramatic changes were a Cumbrian norm. There was no way the girl could get back to the valley and the campsite the next day. He had her to himself for a few days he was sure. How long her perhaps mesmerised state might last he did not know. Perhaps her sleep would end it. Still it would be good to have her around. He lay there thinking of his farm and what he needed to do the next day; he lay there on his back, listening to the sleeping girl. In her hand his still wet, now shrivelled penis - in her body his semen.

That had been the night before. Standing naked and with two mugs of steaming tea at the bedroom door in the early morning, Willet wondered what his reception would be when the girl awoke. He could not help the erection. Well, he could have not undressed and displayed it but... to do all that again like the night before... if only!

The electric light from the passage illuminated the sleeping girl. Willet stepped to the bed watching the girl's face in repose, seeing the gentle rise and fall of the blankets as she breathed. He put down a mug by her side of the bed and smiled down at the girl. The end of his erection, his knob end, was inches from her face, her mouth even - the mouth that had so wonderfully sucked upon his penis the night before. It was so sexual to see his knob and her lips in juxtaposition, even if they were not at all touching.

It was not, though, perhaps the thing for her to see as she opened her eyes - his erection looming over her. Willet went around the bed, put his mug down on his bedside table and got into bed. The girl stirred,

"Morning Eleanor."

How would she be?

"I've brought you some scordy."

"Where? Oh, yes, thanks." She sat up a bit revealing her a naked breast. She turned, reached and drank, put the mug down and flopped down on the pillow.

"I slept like a log."

It was not the sort of words a girl disorientated and frightened about where she was might have spoken.

"Brrrr! It's cold."

"Colder outside."

"How'd you... you've been up and outside already?"

"I'm a farmer."

It said it all. Certainly Willet's friends scattered about the isolated farmhouses would have known just what he meant.

"But you've come back to bed?"

He drank from his mug and as he did so he felt a hand. Warm and soft, not like his calloused hand, on his thigh and then holding his cock. The hand squeezed around his hardness.

"Farmers have needs," he answered. "Let me drink me scordy first."

It was lovely. Coming in from the cold for a fuck before breakfast. Lovely to repeat the act of the night that had passed, kissing and exploring and finding things were just as they had been the night before - in exactly the same places. Again Willet got on top of the girl, again his penis poked at her and slipped easily into her wet sex and moved in and out. This time her feet came up and she locked her ankles over his back, pulling him into her. A second spurting of semen joined the first of the night before inside her.

Dressed in just his old woollen dressing gown Eleanor sat by the Aga in the kitchen as Willet made breakfast. A farmer's breakfast for a working man. Not cornflakes or Rice Krispies but a proper breakfast of fried bacon and eggs to keep out the cold and give the working man energy for the morning.

Again, there was more than enough to do in the farmyard after breakfast and when Willet returned for coffee and a biscuit or two he found the girl had not only washed up but had been tidying as well. Perhaps her feminine sensibilities were offended by the state of the place: perhaps she just wanted to be busy.

"I'm going up the fields to the low fell to see how the sheep are faring."

"Can I come?"

"It's no job for a..." Willet stopped in his tracks. Mary had never asked to come and help, had never wanted to see the stark winter beauty of the fells. Her eyes were always set on the bright, gay lights of the town. A little unfair perhaps as Penrith, Keswick or Kendal were not exactly the sort of town to have many bright, coloured lights. That was more Londontown: perhaps Mary would have been happiest there.

"Yeah, all right but..." He looked at her. What could he dress her in against the cold?

Eleanor looked a picture when he was done - though quite what sort of picture was another matter. It certainly was not a sight for the catwalk! No high heels for one thing. Willet had found an old pair of Mary's Wellingtons. Still too big for Eleanor but better than his own and, with three pairs of woollen socks, just the job. Otherwise she was dressed in some of his working clothes. He had washed her things the night before so she at least had bra and panties but, beyond that, an old checked shirt, brown, baggy corduroys, two jumpers, an old coat which was really too big and too long for her, gloves (woollen and rubber), scarf and woollen hat. She looked completely without shape, a blob of clothing, only her eyes peering over the scarf and the green woollen bobble hat gave her a certain charm - to Willet anyway. The eyes were certainly pretty.

Well wrapped they crossed the farmyard and Willet opened the gate. The snow had drifted and the going was not easy. Eleanor followed Willet as they climbed. A winter wonderland of snow, perhaps, and with the sun up the land looked magnificent but could be deadly. It would not be good if some ill prepared walkers - or joggers - had been caught on the fells the day before by the snow. Not good for humans but it might not be good for sheep either. Their woolly coats would keep them warm but Willet was worried that pregnant ewes might have been covered by the drifting snow. He well knew they could survive for days under the snow by creating air pockets and staying alive through body heat within their insulating covering of wool, but it was not the same for new born lambs and it was coming on lambing time.

The dogs ran ahead. They would search out sheep under the snow.

Willet was happy. Not just with finding his sheep but in Eleanor. She did not just stand around saying she was getting cold and asking when they were going back to the farm. She too worked with a real will. It was teamwork and Willet was happier than he had been for years. A snatched lunch from his pocket and then they went back to work. The landscape was beautiful enough for a picnic: the temperature was not. Keeping moving was good: standing or sitting still was not.

By the late afternoon the clouds were massing and looked heavy and pregnant with snow. They both looked and were, and it hit them as they made their way downwards. A sudden flurry with the wind rising and then 'whiteout.' It was not the gentle falling like it had been when they had been driving the day before: it was a blizzard with a biting wind. But Willet knew the way, knew the way back down to the farm even if he could not see far in front of his face. He held tightly to Eleanor. It would not have done to have been parted and they made their way safely back, through the last gate and into the farmyard and thence into the warm kitchen.

The cessation of wind and snow was sudden as Willet closed the door on the outside world. He looked at the shapeless blob beside him, covered in white snow.

"Scordy?"

"Oh, bliss - yes, please!"

Coats removed and puddles forming on the floor from their now discarded Wellingtons, Willet and Eleanor sat in the warmth drinking tea from large mugs.

"That was a good day's work. Thank you, Eleanor, thank you for your help."

"I enjoyed it."

It was simple but it was clear she meant it. Willet had not told her to enjoy it. It had not come from her seeming trance or hypnosis. It seemed she had, indeed, taken pleasure in the hard work and the wintery beauty of the fells. She was not minded about the cuddy splatter in the farmyard. So different from Mary.

"We're not going to be taking you down to the valley tomorrow. Weather's set in for worse."