Sex, Smoke and Snow in Denver

Leaning against my car I take another drag of my cigarette. An ‘on-again, off-again’ habit I’d make a point of quitting completely after this vacation. It’s not the taste of the smoke but the actions of the routine that I’m addicted to. Sliding the slender white stick from the pack with my fingers. Holding it blithely between my lips as I search for a lighter but secretly hoping for a handsome stranger to spark a match. Smoking reminds me of classic movies and a time when inhaling poison was socially acceptable.

However mid-afternoon in Denver isn’t prime time for random fire-welding gentlemen to roam the street in search of destitute smokers. Patting the plastic of the contained flame through my jean’s pocket I toss the half burnt cigarette. I glance back through the driver’s window and debate leaving. He’s cute, but not wait-around-for-twenty-minutes cute.

 I inhale sharply, surprised by his bearded face reflecting back at me. “Hey,” I manage. “Scared me.”

He smiles softly without breaking eye contact, his are a soft, sweet brown. His long sleeve shirt is looser while his pants are more form fitting than his initial outfit. He somehow looks even more masculine and muscular than when we met a few hours ago.

I don’t know who looks more out of place. Myself in a tight, all black assemble amongst the multicolor wearing locals or his lack of outerwear amidst the gently falling snow. He towers over me as he reaches for the car door handle.

“I guess you’re driving?”

A nod accompanies his smile.

In the most ladylike manner I can, I sit in the passenger seat of my rental, butt first then a twist to draw my legs in, knees together of course. My gaze remains soft though I’m eyeing his bulge hidden behind the denim of his jeans. He appears to be a ‘speak softly and carry a big stick’ type.

After ten minutes of heading south on Valley Highway the lumberjack of a man finally speaks as he exits. “Do you often pick up men from hotels? It’s only a few more minutes.” Jack’s affect is nearly flat with the same nonchalant tone for both.

“Only those willing to help a woman in distress.”

He smiles again, not as big or as genuine.

While he ventures inside the dispensary I climb into the driver’s seat and punch in the coordinates for the hotel in the GPS. The sky turns to a harsh saffron shade with cuts of pink as the sun descends earlier than yesterday. The beautiful scattering of flakes escalates and creates a white haze filtering the shades of carmine light until the ground is a deep white with a cool blue creeping in from the shadows.

I’m barely able to make out Jack as he pushes through the door, the snow already forming a deep terrain for him to step through. He heads for the driver side and I reluctantly scramble back to the passenger seat, feeling a bit like a child waiting for her parent to return from errands.

“I have good news and bad news,” he says crashing into the seat with a puff of snow swirling on the icy wind around him until the door closes with a slam. “Bad news is we’re going to have to wait here for the storm to die down.”

“Uh… in the car? For how long?” The sunset gives off its last wink of light.

He shrugs. “Until it clears up.” He gestures through the windshield as if I hadn’t noticed the emerging blizzard outside.

“And the good news…?”

He takes out a fistful of joints, “We have plenty to do ‘til then.”


My hand wipes a streak of condensation from the window. Outside is dark with only the streetlights’ reflections against the snow. Inside the dome light illuminates the swirls of smoke that clouds the air. Jack fights off a coughing fit brought on by laughter from my impression of the hotel’s concierge. I playfully push his arm with as much success as pushing a boulder.

He looks at me with a grin, stifling his cough behind his teeth. “Whoa. Careful. You might break something.”

“Yeah, right. Like my fingers.”

He takes my hand in his and for the first time in a week since I’ve been in this city I feel flush with heat. “Can’t have that.” He draws my hand towards his face. “Little things like these might never repair.” He closes his eyes and kisses four of my knuckles.

I lean in to kiss him, resting my free hand on his knee and caress his bearded cheek with the other. Jack is rough and tender at the same time. His soft lips are surrounded by course hair. His hands have more calluses than a bartender’s should, but they roam my body gently and without urgency.

“Let’s get in the backseat,” I suggest.

He laughs. “Stay here.” Jack opens the door and the chill of the evening cuts through our smoky hideaway. As one door closes, another opens and he emerges in the back with a light dusting of snow.

Jack reaches through the divided seats and easily scoops me into his arms. Like an infant being placed down for a nap, Jack positions me so I am awkwardly in the center of the car, legs in the back, torso in the front. While still sitting in the middle seat he leans forward and kisses my thigh, slowly lifting my thermal shirt up and exposing my abdomen, and continues up towards my skin.

“Relax,” he whispers. He sits up enough to wrap his hand around the back of my neck as he slowly lowers me so my head rests on the dashboard.

I feel him unbutton my jeans as I look up at the Colorado sky littered with white spots of gleaming stars and falling snow. As the handsome Jack removes my pants I let my mind fall into this winter wonderland.

As he licks up my pussy I can feel his beard combing me as it follows. Jack’s tongue presses into me as he moves up and circles my clit. He is starkly warm compared to the crisp air and moves at a gradual pace.

My breath fogs the glass as my arms lift above my head and my palms meet the coolness of the windshield. His large hands grasp and massage my thighs, teasingly moving closer to my pussy. Abruptly Jack pushes my thighs up and wider, propping them against the front seats so my calves lay next to each headrest.

He moves more south, licking my asshole and cunt, the chill resting on fresh saliva.


To be continued…







One thought on “Sex, Smoke and Snow in Denver

  1. Pingback: Sex, Smoke and Snow in Denver: Pas de Duex | Fela Rue

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