A Hot Weekend in a Frigid Place

I arranged a mountain cabin with a hot tub and gas fireplace for my husband’s birthday in January. He’s definitely on the hot end of the scale when it comes to sex and although we stay “inside the box” from a spiritual point of view the man can come up with some innovative ideas. This particular weekend I was sure I was a step ahead of him. I had the digital camera, a tripod, and was packing enough sexy outfits to keep him busy for days. The cabin faced a gorgeous valley devoid of civilization, not even farmhouses, and the back porch of the cabin where the hot tub was couldn’t be seen from either side.

We arrived in the early afternoon after an hour and a half of driving him crazy in the car talking about his favorite subject, flashing him when there were no other cars around and rubbing his incredibly hard (and probably sore) crotch. He loves it when I keep him revved for hours. He claims the release is much more intense when I finally take him over the edge. The cabin was beautiful and the day was incredibly sunny. It was fairly cold for the South, just above freezing, and predicted to drop a lot more.

We immediately got naked and started taking pictures on the back porch and in front of the fireplace. He was enjoying his photography and taking it quite seriously posing me in ways that hid my flaws and captured all the best angles. Just about dark, we jumped in the hot tub for more sexy stories and some serious foreplay. After his first explosive release, which covered most of my face, the railing of the porch, and much of the ground below we settled down in the tub to let him bask in the afterglow. I think we both went to sleep because we woke later to only moderately warm water and some bitter winds. We ran the frigid six feet to the door and sprawled in front of the fireplace.

It was so cold we finally piled into the bed to eat our junk food leaving the fireplace at full blast. After the meal and some headboard banging fun, we crashed for the evening. It was probably three or four hours later we woke to shiver under the down comforter even though we had both unconsciously rolled up back to back. The fire was still going at its top setting, but we could hear the wind howling through the cracks around the windows. We both got up and put on all the clothes we brought including our coats, piled an extra blanket we found on the top and jumped back in the bed to spoon and try to get warm. We may have slept a little, but the sun came up without any relief in the temperature. A thermometer on the back porch read fourteen degrees and the cabin could not have been much above freezing.

My darling husband finally decided to check the hot tub and found, much to our surprise, that with the cover on, it had come back up to about ninety-eight degrees. It’s a wonder we didn’t frostbite our nether regions, but we ran out onto the porch and jumped in. My engineer husband decided the only way the tub would stay at a decent temperature was to keep the cover on with just enough space open to get our fresh air. We stayed in the tub for three hours until we were both starving and finally bore the pain of getting inside, getting dressed, and taking the car to a diner for some hot breakfast.

Thankfully he remembers the trip with fondness, but it’s a wonder Eskimos ever procreate at all.