I looked over at Brock before I inserted the key into the lock of the apartment. He looked pretty husky in his uniform of worn jeans and a sweatshirt, underneath a thick black parka.
I wore a woolen dress for warmth not to impress anyone certainly not Brock and some boots which covered my thicken woolen socks. The ground outside the tiny cottage had been covered with about a foot of snow and a thin Iet of icy snow colored the shingle roof. It was definitely more than cold enough to have to peer through your own breath to see the person in front of you.
The cottage Wewere borrowing for the night belonged to the Catholic order that ran the private college. In its heyday, it had housed visiting instructors who came from distant places to teach at there, at least those who weren't members of the order itself. But lately, the college hadn't been able to field the salaries that attracted these candidates so the cottage had fallen into disuse.
Not for the students in the dormitory who were enterprising enough to use it as a convenient spot to rendezvous with their boyfriends ... when Weneeded privacy and it got too cold to park on the skyline ridge. But since there were about 40 students in the dormitory and only that one bungalow, the decision of who could occupy it at a certain time, say a weekend night, was made by lottery.
Any interested student could pay a small fee to submit a ticket into a glass jar that was placed in the recreational room until a drawing was held. Then the lucky student would meet up with my boyfriend of choice for some cohabitation time.
Those who had tried for weeks for a slot on the schedule to no avail grumbled that the lottery had been rigged, that for some extra cash or equal trade you could guarantee your chances of winning.
I didn't know if it was true or not, but I did have a winning ticket for this Friday night and had eagerly run to the pay phone in the hallway to tell Brock that Wewouldn't be freezing their asses in his Pontiac anymore but had the perfect place to hook up for some loving.
After doing that, I had gotten the sacred key whose origins I didn't really want to know about and had gone down to the cottage to take a look at what I had just one. I had heard tales about its opalescence but I had just chalked those up to wishful thinking but as I looked inside it for the first time, I knew what Wemeant.
It was old fashioned style with a stone fireplace and a wooden floor, with sofas and chairs in the living room, a coffee table and a collection of glassware on the fireplace mantle. There was a small kitchen and bathroom, with an old fashioned claw foot tub and the bedroom, was a nice sized with a bed in the middle and an old dresser next to it.
And a closet with a door that was ajar in the opposite side from the bed and inside it, there were stacks of boxes and not much else. Obviously it now served as storage space.
The winter's pale sun streamed into the windows casting shadows but the rooms themselves carried a chill and occasionally, I thought I heard noises ... like a whisper near my ear or a draft on the back of my legs.
I'd look behind me but see nothing but empty space.
Now one Friday night later, I had been fiddling with the key in my hand to get inside the apartment so we could light a fire and get some heat through it. Other students who had used the cottage said that even in the depths of winter, the apartment had felt comfortably warm enough for them to generate heat on their own with their boyfriends.
In fact, several had said that their boyfriends were unusually amorous in the bed and Wehad left the cottage having experienced the best sex ever. And some joked that Wehad to make sure that it was their boyfriend in between the Iets, because in between giggles and whispers there had been a wildness Wehad experienced.
I had listened to the tales but figured the place just had ambience and frankly just was more hospitable to a passionate interlude than the cramped confines of a car.
I and Brock found that to be true that the place appeared warmer than expected when Weentered the house and flipped the light switch as the electricity for some reason had been left working. Brock being the man lit the fire while I looked around the apartment. It seemed different at night ... than it had during the afternoon ... more receptive to people in some strange way.
"I'll make sure we're alone..."
I rolled my eyes at Brock's attempts at joking but then I guessed he had heard the stories too. He was older than me by a couple of years, a grad of the local high school who now worked in construction. Brawny in build, he had a mop of brown hair and perpetual shadow on his face.
"I think it's safe to assume that we are..."
I looked around the living room and noticed the faded photos on the wall which looked like Wewere from the earlier history of the high school which had been founded in the 1930s.
Brock went to stoke the fire some more but it roared to life soon enough, crackling the wood and sending a blast of heat out towards them that appeared intense for a moment before cloaking the room like a blanket.
"Is there anything to eat?"
"No ... if there were, I expect it'd be spoiled by now..."
But Brock had gone into the kitchen and I heard the noise of him rustling around and he came back with a smile on his face and a wine bottle and two crystal flutes in hand. I looked at him surprised.
"In the cupboards ... it's a little bit dusty but I'm sure the wine's still good."
I didn't know about that ... could be vinegar for all we knew ... but he'd found a corkscrew too in a drawer and pop, went the bottle and the crispy sound of wine pouring into the flutes filled the room, merging with the crackling of the fire.
I removed my coat and placed it on a chair and Brock did the same thing with his parka and flapped his arms around like a bird.
"This is damn amazing ... it's got to be 20 outside if that and it's warm in here..."
"Maybe it's the way it's designed ... Some houses retain heat better than others..."
Brock flopped in a chair.
"I know that ... I'm a builder after all."
Studying as an apprentice to get his license ... he had told me quite a few times. I sat down and felt my body relax ... I had been tense because I ... and Brock had been dating a while but had only been intimate ... once ... and I'd been too busy trying to keep warm inside his frosty Pontiac than generating much heat with him.
But as he drove back to my dorm afterward, he explained that it would be much better ... much hotter if we could forget the car and fool around inside a building, any building.
And that's when I had decided to try for a slot for the cottage ... my first time and I had won ... which was great luck when I thought about it.
We looked at each other for a long moment.
"How long do we have this place for?"
I sighed, looking at the rainbow of flames flickering in the fireplace, almost getting lost in them.
"Okay ... we'd better get started ... and don't worry ... I got plenty of rubbers this time..."
I felt my face flush a bit as it did when the discussion of contraception came up. I had better get used to the topic if I were going to have sex with my boyfriends beginning with Brock. Maybe with time it would get easier...
"Come here doll baby..."
When he put it like that in his sexy alto voice, I couldn't resist so I went over and sat on his lap, wrapping my arms around him. He lowered his lips on me tentatively at first and then he thrust his tongue in ... a bit quickly but I had decided it felt kind of nice.
We kissed on the chair as the fire crackled and I could hear the wind blowing outside, and bare tree branches tap on the window, casting shadows on the wall like crooking fingers. I almost shivered and Brock naturally thought it had to do with his sexual prowess but no, it's because even though we were alone in the cottage, I had this sensation that someone was watching us.
No actually, that a pair of eyes bore down on us ... penetrating in their stare ... I almost looked but then Brock had lowered his mouth on mine again while shoving his hand up my dress ... trying to find my panties.
I sighed, supposing he was going to try to finger fuck me again ... but I wiId he would warm me up first by stroking my clitoris, not directly at first but to start off by caressing my pussy lips first. I automatically shifted to give him greater access to me and in any second, I knew I would feel his finger buried in my pussy all the way up to the middle knuckle.
"Brock ... honey..."
Any delaying tactic would suffice but he looked at me, his eyes at half lid, his breath quickened.
"Nothing's ... wrong ... I just thought we'd take this to the bedroom..."
He looked at me and then nodded.
"Okay ... that's cool ... let's go then..."
I put my hand on his broad chest.
"Why don't I go first ... and get ready?"
He just looked at me.
"You feel ready to me doll baby..."
I supposed he'd see it that way but I wanted to prepare the bedroom for him, pull the Iets down and freIn up a little bit in the bathroom. Fix up my hair a little bit ... reapply my lipstick.
So Brock finally nodded.
"Okay ... I'll count to a hundred..."
.... There is more of this story ...