Wet, Wet Snow or a Wee Dance

It was just my luck that the night before we where to do the shopping for our house party, there was the biggest snowfall for years. Then to make matters worse, the strong winds had caused the snow to drift. Although the snow ploughs had made the main roads passable, the remainder of the thoroughfares were blocked to cars, even off–road vehicles. Ian, my husband, had dug paths along with the neighbors, so people could walk. But the nearest town was 6 miles away.
After a lot of thought we decided on a plan of action, the nearest main road was one and a half miles across the fields. We decided to make a fun thing out of it and walk to the main road, then phone for a taxi.
Then all dressed up in sweaters, wind cheaters, and boots, (mine were long ones that reached my knees) and my outfit complete with thick black tights, a tartan skirt, scarf and gloves, we started out. The walk to the main road took us through the fields and a wooded corps over a snow–covered ditch, and, yes, with me being only 5–2, went right in up to my bum. Ian pulled me out; my tights above my boots were damp, but I quickly forgot about that in the warmth of the taxi as we rode in to town.
We had taken our own bags with us; four of them, to avoid having our fingers torn off with thin plastic ones. So two hours later, each encumbered with two bags, we retired to a warm pub, for burgers and two pints of lager. The mood was happy and we were glowing from our efforts, general cheer, and strong lager. As the snow was putting taxis in great demand, we rang for one from our mobile phone as soon as we had finished eating.
Sure enough, having anticipated a delay, the taxi arrived, as soon as we were halfway down our second pints. As they charge you for waiting we had to drink up and get out, no time to go to the Ladies’ and struggle out of my tights. I would have liked to have gotten my bum on the warm seat to have a much needed pee and look at my thighs which were burning from my tights being damp and walking around in the freezing air.
Once in the taxi I saw the funny side of the situation and whispered my predicament to Ian, who watched as I slipped my hand up my skirt, too ease my sticking tights from my chapped thighs and secretly give my pussy a squeeze– to ease the pressure. As I did so I noticed that Ian’s jeans were not hiding an interesting erection. The remainder of the ride was taken up by Ian’s teasing me by trying to tickle me and work his hand up my skirt to ascertain that I had not wet myself, or so he said.
Had we not been in a taxi I would have been happy to prolong this activity as his fingers, “inadvertently” rubbing my clit through my now even damper panties, were getting me more than aroused. I knew, from experience that if I let him continue, I would cum and probably wet my panties and leave a puddle.
Leaving the taxi and picking up our bags at the side of the road we commenced our way home across the fields. As we trudged through the snow, I could not prevent little trickles of pee from escaping through my panty crotch and wetting my tights, making my thighs sting– particularly when we came to the ditch.
Ian jumped across first, and I handed the bags across, then I pulled the front of my skirt up and tucked it into the back of my panties giving myself a hard squeeze. Then still holding, I stepped back, then ran and jumped. As I landed I narrowly avoided letting the lot go, but fell forwards. Ian put down the bags and lifted me up, brushing off the snow, which had broken my fall. He made sure that he pulled my skirt from out of my panties, taking the opportunity to hold up the front and inspect my wet crotch. I thought that his zip would burst with size of his erection.
“Not here,” I gasped, “the trees!” Seizing my bags I ran toward the wood, Ian following behind, shouting “come here, wet knicks” while encumbered by his state of arousal. Arriving at the edge of the wood, I looked around for a place to squat, then looked around for Ian’s help, but I was amazed to see him with his prick out trying to pee with an erection.
Peeved to see him attending to his own needs first, and bending forward, causing a gap between his jacket and jeans, I seized a hand full of snow and stuffed it down his waistband. This had a threefold effect, first a loud shout of surprise, followed by a lost erection, then a stream of pee, Taking my opportunity I flung off one glove and took hold of his prick, playing it like a hosepipe making patterns in the snow. If it had not been for the excitement of rubbing of my crotch against his hip I could have concentrated more and wrote my name. Slowly the jet of pee slowed to a trickle and then stopped. Letting go of him, I tried to squat at the same time hooking my thumbs in the waistband of my tights and panties.
The next thing that happened was that my feet flew out from under me and I was lying on my back in the snow. Ian’s rapidly hardening prick was my side. He was going to have his own back now. Even the anticipation of what was to happen did not lessen the shock– a huge handful of snow thrust up into my crotch. The effect was three fold– I started to piss full force, melting the snow, wetting his hand and then my panties and tights. Then as his jiggling fingers found my clit I could not refrain from fucking his hand, dimly aware of his erection pressing on my bare thigh. I bent my knees, wriggling my arse to force more of his hand in me, my nipples rubbing beneath my sweater. Sending waves of delight through me, I had to put my hand over his to press against my cunt.
I desperately wanted his prick in me but it was too late, my orgasm was upon me. Lights flashed before my eyes (I am noisy when I cum) and I could hear myself shouting dirty words, encouraging him to do even ruder things to me as I thrashed around. Then as I stated to come down from my high, I felt him tensing against my leg, and with each jerk sending a jet of cum up my leg. I pushed in to him wanting to make his release as powerful as mine had been.
For a time we lay kissing on our backs in the snow, the sun setting shadows through the trees above, surrounded by the snow blanketed silence. Slowly I became aware of the cool, the warm wee now starting to feel freezing, and my chapped thighs stinging from the pee that had been trapped in my panties and tights. We scrambled to our feet brushing snow from our clothing, Ian pushing his prick back into his jeans. I thought of removing my tights and panties, but thought better of it as at least they would protect me from the icy wind that was starting to blow. After much kissing and banter we gathered ourselves together and began the long trudge home.
We were unable to put our arms around each other, as we where both carrying two bags, but the ache for physical contact was in both our minds. I teased him, about “having his cock out and not getting it in”!!! He teased me about being so turned on by holding a peeing prick that I creamed my panties, and then said he had seldom seen me so uninhibited. I agreed and told him that I had been thinking about it all and concluded that abandoning all constrains and responsibilities to him had been wonderfully childlike.
Ian looked thoughtful and said “that’s a thought– a bit more or even a lot more of the same would be nice when we get home.” I agreed with him but said that we still had some ways to go and I needed to pee again. More over, my legs were beginning to get seriously painful which was keeping me from just standing still and wetting myself.
He gave me a peck on the cheek, “if you can hold out, I think I can make it worth the wait.” I wanted to know how but had to make do with hints as to how nice it would be.
By now the winter afternoon was turning colder and my legs were really chafing against my tights. This was causing me to stop and reach beneath my skirt and adjust them, and as before also giving my shaved pussy a strong squeeze. Reflecting on Ian’s promise my clit was starting to need some attention.
Ian could sense my agitation and sought to take my mind off of it and on to other matters, like a nice drink. Or, when we got home maybe some play spanking, or a shower together, followed by some really rude things. This worked until we could see our house in the distance, but the chafing was more than I could stand and I put down my bags. Ian did not say anything but added one of my bags to his already heavier ones, leaving me with one hand free to hold myself as I walked, even as pee was seeping through my gloves.
We reached home with me mincing down the garden path and the light was almost gone by this time, so I had no fears of any one seeing me. What a picture! Ian put the bags down and was searching for his keys, while I was gripping my pussy with one hand– and not just to stop from peeing.
The wonderful feeling of central heating met us as we carried our goods through into the kitchen. Ian put them on the working top and said one word– “bathroom!”
Undine (Email Welcome… just click on the name)