I can barely see you out in front of me as you tear down the snowy mountain, digging edges with your birthday present; a new snowboard. The shredded, virginal powder delicately sprinkles into my face, across my sunglasses. If it were anyone else in front of me, I'd tell you to slow down. But it's that perfect, heart-shaped ass that keeps my mouth shut. What man would really speak up when he has the opportunity to stare at such a great body? As your gorgeous backside moves left and right with your snowboard, I can't help to think to myself: "I gotta get my hands on that."
We reach a plateau on the mountain and you wait for me to catch up. As I pull up next to you, I'm panting heavily, but it has nothing to do with being tired. My heart is racing. My brow is sweating. All I can think about is peeling those tight, black ski pants down to your ankles, and licking every inch of you.
"I'm ready to head back to the cabin for a drink with the crew. What do you think?" It's an innocent enough question to me, but my mental capacity is focused on trying to get you naked, not hanging out with the rest of the friends we're traveling with.
I answer with minimal enthusiasm. "Yeah, I guess. That sounds cool." Skiing down the mountain, my thoughts were completely lost in formulating a plan to get close to you. I completely forgot about the others. We have been friends since grade school, but I never had the opportunity to make any moves on you. As far as you knew it, we've always been friends – and that's it. Nothing romantic, Hot, or sexual ever happened between the two of us. To you, grabbing a drink was simply that, and nothing more. To me, it was an opportunity to wrap my hands around that sexy body, but I knew my options were limited with so many other people around 24 hours a day. For now, I would have to be content just fantasizing.
Before my thoughts are finished, you race down the hill yelling, "Last one down buys the drinks!" I laugh to myself, and mumble, "I'll be last as long as I can keep the view I like..."
Halfway down, you find a snow bank that looks inviting. You tear off to the side, building speed, trying to line up for a daredevil-type of jump. Your board hits the ramp perfectly, and launches you much higher than you expected. The landing isn't strong as your board edge catches an icy patch of snow, and launches you forward. All I see is a rolling, tumbling ball of snow, hair, and lusciously tight ski pants. I release my board bindings as quickly, and race over to you. I'm worried you're hurt, but I run up to the distinct sound of laughter. Snow covers one entire side of your face, and has matted itself throughout your hair.
"I'm guessing you're OK?" I asked anxiously.
Through the giggling, I can hear you spitting out snow. "Yeah, I'm alright. I'm more embarrassed than hurt, but I think I pulled my right hamstring."
I delicately help you to your feet, as you immediately transfer your weight off that pulled muscle. You drape your right arm around my neck and shoulder, looking for a little support. I put my arm around your waist, trying to help you, but my mind isn't on your injury. I feel terrible about it, but I can't ignore the fact I want this body draped all over me, naked. As you tell me about the severity of your injury, I'm not even listening. All I can focus on is the faint vanilla scent that you're wearing. It's intoxicating. You lean your head forward as I gently wipe the snow from your hair. I stare at the nape of your neck, just imaging what it would be like to kiss, and nibble that soft, tantalizing skin. We take the next twenty minutes slowly getting you down the mountain. Our group's cabin is perfectly located at the base of the ski resort, so we don't have far to go.
"Let's get you inside, put a warm drink in your hand, and sit you next to the fireplace. That ought to help soothe you bit." You grimace lightly at the pain, but smile at the thought of getting off your feet, and comfortably relaxing. My gloved fingers fumble at the cabin lock, as the key falls to the ground. I steady you a bit, and then bend down to pick the key up. I can't pick the key up from the concrete with my gloves on, so I take a few seconds to get them off. As I'm pulling at the wet gloves, I can't help but realize my face is inches away from your tight, inviting ass. It takes everything within me not to run my hands across the smooth, ski pants material. It takes even greater strength not to take a big, greedy bite!
As the cabin door swings open, we're met with emptiness, and a note pinned to the entryway: "Everyone is hungry from skiing all day. We headed out for dinner at 5pm. Meet up with us. Get ready to get your drink on!" I stare at the note, reading it over and over. I'm not getting the same message they intended. To me, it says, "We're out of your way for several hours."
"Well, it looks like we can relax without all of those hooligans around!" You say this with a smile, and a quick wink. "Or, I can hobble along if you're willing to act as my crutch all night." I quickly dismissed the idea of venturing out because I wasn't willing to lose the one-on-one time I had been luckily given.
"Nope, we can go out with those jokers any time. You're hurt. Let's keep you from moving around too much. I'll grab a couple of warm drinks. You relax." I carefully lower you to the assortment of pillows that I built up in front of the fireplace, as I slip into the kitchen.