Make no mistake. Cold Day in Hell is one piping hot short story, with a
hilarious ending. Think of it as a dirty-little "O.
Henry."
Thanks, Selena, my dear,
for sharing your writing here. Always an honor to
showcase your stories and big-time turn-on to read them. You
KNOW this one's got me torqued, imagining being your mechanic. ;-) “Sky”
he wind chill factor, that's what they said on the
radio—made you feel like it was well below zero,
even when the thermometer read
somewhere in the teens.
It didn't seem so bad when Matt and I were snuggled up
in bed and I hit the snooze on the radio alarm for the
third time. So class was a mile walk—I'd just
bundle up.
"I'm going to get
it running today, I promise," he told me when he
kissed me goodbye and sent me on my way. Lucky bastard
didn't have any Friday classes.
"Yeah right,"
I said, rolling my eyes. Of course, I didn't believe
him for a minute. We'd been married six months, and for
five of those, our little brown Dodge Dart hadn't even
started, let alone run! "It will be a cold day in
hell..."
"Maybe today is
cold enough?" He grinned and I flipped him off on
the way out the door.
It didn't matter so much
when the weather was nice, but now that it was cold, I
hated walking everywhere. By the time I got to my
poetry class, I couldn't feel my fingers, even through
two pairs of gloves. My nose and cheeks were so red and
I sniffled so much that the guy next to me kept handing
me Kleenex and asking if I had a cold. My teeth
chattered through my reading of Alfred Prufrock, and
the professor made me stop and told me to go out in the
hall to buy a coffee from the machine.
I was just desperate
enough to do it, too. That coffee was like sludge, but
it was so hot that I could use it just to warm my hands
if I wanted to. It really helped, and by the end of
class, I could actually feel my toes wiggling in my
boots again. I packed everything up as slowly as I
could, drinking the last of my coffee before pulling my
gloves back on.
"Hey, Sara, do you
want a ride?"
It was the guy who sat
next to me—I could never remember his name,
although he clearly knew mine. James? John? At that
point, I didn't care—the prospect of a warm car
was more temptation than I could resist!
"Yes!" I
exclaimed, beaming at him. "I'd love
one!"
He talked the whole way
back, but I didn't care. I just kept directing him
where to turn and cranking up the heat. It was like a
furnace blowing over my cheeks, making them tingle, and
I was in heaven. When he pulled up to the house, I sat
there, shocked, seeing Matt's legs sticking out from
under the car. He was actually working on it!
"Thanks for the
ride," I said to John (James? Damn!), giving him a
big smile before climbing out of his truck.
I approached Matt,
hearing him swearing softly under the car. Something
fell and tinked on the cement. He clearly didn't know I
was there, and he
cocked one knee up,
letting it fall to the side as he whistled some tune.
All of a sudden, I had an idea.
"Shhhh, don't say
anything," I whispered as I squatted between his
legs, glancing around. We were pretty well protected by
the side of the house, although someone could see us
from the road if they were looking.
I pulled one of my
gloves off with my teeth, grasping his zipper and
easing it down. It was so cold that he was actually
wearing long underwear—and I didn't even know he
owned any! Quickly, I reached in and found his cock,
pulling it free and squeezing it in my hand.
"You're such a good
boy," I murmured, glancing toward the road to see
if anyone was approaching. "Coming out here in
this awful cold to fix the car... let's warm you up a
little."
He made some noise and
shifted his weight, but my hand was wrapped tight,
working up and down his shaft, making him stand up
straight. It didn't take long, really. I pumped him
hard and fast, feeling his hips bucking up against me.
He was a throbbing tower of heat in my fist, much
warmer than a cup of coffee, the friction warming both
my hands and his cock. I worked him up and down, my
eyes still on the road to make sure no one was
watching.
When I heard him groan,
I glanced back, and then saw the first hot spurt of cum
shooting over my fist. I grabbed him in my other hand,
squeezing his cock in my glove, letting him spill over
onto the material, cleaning the head with it before
tucking him back in and zipping him up.
"Don't stop
working," I murmured, putting my bare hand against
the crotch of his jeans. "If you get it fixed,
I've got an even better reward. I'll be waiting inside
with a nice warm pussy for you to fuck, baby."
I gave him a good
squeeze and, grinning, headed into the house. I was
peeling off my layers and fantasizing about making us
hot chocolate and tomato soup when Matt came into the
kitchen from the living room, seeing me standing by the
side door.
"I'm sorry, baby,
you look like you're freezing," he said, coming up
and giving me a kiss on my cold, flushed cheek.
"But the good news is, I met a mechanic today who
said he'd come look at the car, so you won't have to
walk anymore."
I blushed red, staring
at him, my mouth working but no sound coming out.
"Mechanic?" I
finally choked out, glancing over my shoulder when I
heard the side door open.
"Found your
problem!" The mechanic was a balding guy with a
ponytail, and he was grinning right at me. "Now,
little lady, how's about that reward?"
“He was a throbbing tower of heat in
my fist, much warmer than a cup of coffee, the friction warming
both my hands and his cock.”