Santa.

We sit and watch the weather. Snowstorm soon, pretty bad.

The clouds roll in and the radio says there’s 30 foot squalls on the open water.

I check the generators, panels,  and geothermal. Everything is green to go. Check the firewood, ax and shovels. We are good.

I walk in from the cold, and she is there humming to herself over a boiling pot. Her hips sway with her melody. I curls my arms around her and she jumps a bit as I lay my chin on her shoulder. I sniff at her flannel. It smells of her and soup steam. Autumn leaves and grass, and clovers. Clean scents mixed with perfectly stewed vegetables and curry.

She smacks at me a bit and then lets me be back against her as she stirs. I smell curry, lemons, beans, and the blanchness of steamed rice.  Smells of fresh baked foccacia and cocktails all mix together to create this comfort, and her body against mine, always mine.

She serves us morrocan stew, curry, and bread, and it feels like a hundred spices, and I am once again happy that we ordered all our supplies months ago, because an Alaskan winter without curry, is a very sad winter. There is always salmon, but without some flavor, it’s a long darkness. I have a vodka and club with a lemon, and she has her bourbon. We are content in the presence of one another and food, and being locked together once again insulated from the cold, and once the storm has passed we will don our gear and go and uncover the wood piles and genny and see what the storm did, but for now it’s just us with some good food, and company. She smiles at me and we clink our glasses.

This was our retirement. After the little ones had left, dogs had passed away, it was just us, the neighborhood grew dark around us and so we decided we needed a change. A big one.

So we moved. She got a job right away, I got a job a little bit after. The thing is you come to an age, and you’re not so worried anymore. You and your wife have spent a lifetime living a very good life and getting through so much together. That sound? Thats silence. That’s your soulmate. Anyway, our jobs.

We’d get enough for a few supplies and to pay insurance. We talked to the locals, then we were invited for dinner by the locals, , and since then we have been an integral part of the community.  Now we are locals.

My wife loves Christmas, like loves it with a passion, and so it seemed only fitting that we’d move to North Pole, Alaska.

Giant Santa statue, reindeer brats, yeah, real hilarious, but she wanted this. So i thought on it for a bit, and i agreed. We are untouchable. Nothing can break us yeah.

It’s a humble place, for all its glitz and glory during the winter few people come here.

We are off the beaten path.  The lights from the city don’t reach us here. That’s what she wanted.

“It’s my turn to see her.”

And so we did. We sold all of our shit, said our goodbyes, and we were off.

I don’t regret it for a second. One more adventure had with my sweet wife.  And she did see her, Aurora B, in her green dress, pirouetting in the sky. And I remember being way to cold, and just a bit high and thinking this, always like this as we held hands and she reached up to the sky in hopes of touching her girl in a green dress. An eternity Aurora B.

We finish our soup and do dishes together while we listen to music. Bumping hips in the lamplight. Slightly drunk and mellow.

The thing about cabin life is you can’t have all of your technology. I absolutely love technology. You can have it some thought, but you need a back up. You can have your e reader, but you have to go into town to download new books or you just need good old analog books. You have to download a lot. We usually just take a drive when the weather permits and hang out with the Inuit lady that owns the Country Cafe, and do all of our downloading and new streaming while we are there.

Guy Fieri came here one time, and since then we will always see some star struck couples coming to eat what Guy ate.  I have no idea what he ate. Hopefully it was good.

For the most part though it’s quiet enough for us and it gets us out of the house when we go a bit stir crazy.

Sometimes we go down to the North Pole ale house on Old Richardson Highway, for flights of the new brews and some good pub food. I’ve done their karaoke once or twice as well. She thinks I am wildly hilarious. I think I’m sorta like a hobbling Fred Astaire or Bing Crosby but to each their own.

It’s a nice place here and people mind their business, well except for Alexs Defant, the town gossip queen, but other than him, it’s a good town. Sometime  I go out for meetings at the Loyal Order of the Moose. We help kids and disabled people. A plus, I never see Defant at any meetings. Funny that Defant. You cocksucker.

We live up by Chena River. Right by Nordale rd. Yeah if you go past Andromeda Ln you’ve gone too far. It’s good fishing mostly all year around, so if you like fish like us, you are set. Salmon, perch, pike, walleye, maybe a few crappie in the shallows. Sometimes we get some deer or moose from friends but for the most part it’s fish and whatever veggies we could can for the year.  If all of that fails my wife has bought us an annoying large supply of beans, rice, and dehydrated vegetables. She calls it her apocalypse pantry. She is still very funny.

The storm outside is picking up.  I’m assuming we will lose power and heat, so I’m setting up the candles and pulling in more wood after supper. She is grabbing extra blankets and flashlights and real books and board games. Humming to herself as she goes.

She’s content, and when you are content you know what you see?

Everything. You notice so much more of the outside world when your head is quiet. So she hums and works, and waits for the storm.

This is our retirement. This is where we will die and it’s sorta really nice. She watches as much Northern lights as she can, and I enjoy watching the world bluster and change. I love the language of the forest and trees.  I love the hubbub of people talking in the market. I love the yip and howl of the timber wolves at night, When we go fishing in my little fishing boat it is she it jus her, with lipstick and a neckerchief that steals the show and brings in all the fish. She laughs so cheerfully every time she brings in a fish.  We always go home with a full cooler because of her.  Can’t complain at all.

The lights flicker a bit and I go  and make sure all the doors are closed and locked. Inside and out. As I am checking things I can hear when we lose power. You don’t think your world is loud till you lose power.  Silence is different and more profound. I still get sorta scared when it happens but now it just makes me hurry and finish checking the house. She holds a lamp close to the wood burning stove for me as I chop wood down to a manageable size, and find the kindling. I start a fire and feed it slowly. Our house is well insulated but I build up the fire none the less. Till it is rosy and cheerful and crackling away. We look at each other with relief and the smell of wood smoke  fills the house. I feel my shoulders loosen as I see the teapot start to boil. We touch our heads together, at least now. At least here, at least you. I am ok, you are ok, we are ok. 

We pull our bed out of the bedroom and throw as many blankets as we can on top of it, it all goes as close to the wood burning stove as we can. She always worries about a fire.

We have mugs and tea, coffee grounds, even instant soup. And some bullion cubes ( hey, sometimes it’s just the little things.) Book and cards. The wind whistles around our little house but still can’t reach us. We close all the doors inside as well. It is easier to heat a small room than the whole house.

We have thick socks on and flannel pajamas under all the blankets we could find. Oil lamps help us read books or play games and it is like a wonderful slumber party.  She is comfortable and warm underneath and she makes happy noises as she reads and sighs as the warmth from the stove hits her.

Sometimes she talks about being half snake. How all she really needs in life is a hot rock, a good book, some tea and sex with me.  So far I have not found a hot rock for her, but I try to fill the rest.

I am sitting learning to embroider. No it’s not the digitized version of needlework that is cross stitch. I don’t want my stuff looking like Mario Bros. I want it to look like a picture, with the string being the paint.  So I lay beside her pulling thread through tiny needles, building a picture with layer colored thread. It’s a good picture. Green things, leaf things, spring things, growing in the ground things. To give us a reminder in the middle of winter that this too shall pass. I stop after awhile so I can add more wood to the stove and I pull the damper down for the night. As I crawl into bed she stops reading and rolls over to curl up with me.

“No work tomorrow eh eh eh.” Her little joke, with added waggling eye brows and a lecherous smile.  I shake my head, half smile and crawl under the covers with her. I put my arms around her and she stops joking and just…melts into me.

“That was a long wait.” She whispers into my shoulder.

“It was, but now here we are. Welcome to the bedroom. “ I wave my hands around the living room. She chuckles quietly. We’ve done all of this a thousand times now and I still feel every pound of my heart for her.

She runs her hand under my shirt, just this back and forth motion as we chat.  Smiling and laughing as we touch and caress. We flirt with each other constantly and this is the build up.

Sometimes you just need to look at them. You know? Just fucking look at your other side. Just really look. What do you feel. Play it cool all you like but never with yourself. If that person doesn’t gut you just by there nearness, and drives you mad when they go to far away…then you have not found them yet. You haven’t found her yet. If you don’t uncontrollably throb sometimes just thinking about fucking them, then you aren’t even close to where you need to be.

Her hand goes down below and the talking stops as her eyes turn diamond and intense. She bites her lip and smiles. She pushes her hand through the vent in my pajama bottoms and pulls my flaccid cock out. She slowly starts to pump it in her hand as we kiss.  She plays with my nipples every now and then, and then goes back to pumping me in her hand just this nice, just wave like rhythm. If you could hold the ocean in your hands and fuck it, this would be close.  My cock feels huge, like taut, but she just softly, flutter of black wings, softly caresses me. She takes her time. That’s all we have now is time, everything you thought you had to hurry for leads you to a place that you realize it was never needed.  We have time, and this is sacred. She rakes her nails along the under side of my cock, she starts to lick my nipples, going further down till there’s a shudder and then all I can feel is her breath on my cock skin and this ache of anticipation. And when she finally descends, my breath shakes out of my chest, deep, and charged. Our intent and purpose matches the storm. We are a force of nature you will never know.  The storm bathes me in warmth as her lips slip over my cockhead and a warm swirl of her tongue, it’s like this sultry hello spelled out in telegram dots along my flesh.

My turn on to this moment is twofold. My wife know me, and I basically always almost have a heart attack making love to her. She knows this. We are hard wired into each others hearts and brains, I’m a fucking junky for her. Never knew what that word meant really till I met her.

MINE Never wanted anyone to be MINE. Such a foreign way to speak. A foreign idea, but then this. She frail, and immaculate.

So when she touches me, I know that that touch os getting touted right back into her pussy.  When you know, Nay, when there is no other answer then

“I’m going to cum for you as long as you will have me.”

And the look in her eyes was a hard settled final look of satisfaction. Her tongue is magic on my cock, and I know her pussy is getting soaked, wet, lovely. I know this and my dick pounds on her mouth with just the thought.

You’ll never see this out and about.

You won’t. See this because it isn’t yours. You’ll see two middled aged people smiling warmly at work or out on the street. This, this is ours, and I’ve never wanted anything else so much as I want this.

Ok. Done. You get the point. I push her off and make her fall back on her ass. I push my cock up inside her.  I am not gently. I am resolute. I am fucking her, and I might cum all over her face but right now I just want to feel her pussy grabbing at my cock as I slide it ever so slowly up and down inside her pussy. I am trying to fuck her soul. I want to break her and so I fuck her pussy good. If a cock could French kiss it would feel like this. And she eats it up. It’s the reverb remember. She know my cock is hard because of how wet and soaking she is. By the rock hardness of her nipples. And my cock swells till it’s hard to push inside her. But I do, I slow down and smell her hair and neck. I soak in her scent. That is also mine. Her scent is mine. On the hottest day I would gladly lick her salty clean and soak in that smell of her skin. She will never play fair, but this, this is just simply her. Not her personality. Not her cleverness, charisma. No, this is just her. Mark or break no holds barred, her. Smelling alive and totally so fuckable. And so, I push into her and fuck her long and slow, and she holds on tight, her pussy clenching against me, every ridge of my cock and I want her to feel every delectable inch. Her back arches and I wind my way down between her legs. I stick my tongue as deep as I can inside her pussy. There is no pretense now. Just animal hunger. I lick up to her clit and then just start fucking her pussy with my tongue like it was my cock. I suck on her pussy lips, suck and nibble on them. She is all over my face, her scent and wetness I am gladly drowning in. I push a finger inside of her and rake it against her G spot. I try to match it with my sucking on her clit, so that one starts  as the other is finishing. I want her cum, as surely as a horse wants water. I suck and lick at her clit, her lips, her pussy hole, till I am drowning and in a frenzy. The cold doesn’t even touch us under our blankets, with the stove blasting away and her skin is wood burning stove warm.  She is fire warm, passion warm. I grab her stomach in my hands, to pin her torso down. I can feel her pussy squeeze my finger, like this tiny toothless mouth. I rub my finger along the ridges of her g spot and she shakes and starts and raises her hips and cums on one long scream as she buries her head in the pillows I pull her close and torture her clit, drive her up and up and up her wetness saturates me, my cock is pounding with my heart beat, so hard it is painful. I rub it against the bed as I fuck here with my tongue. She jerks and shudders, tries to get away from me but I have her fast. Secure, her pussy trembles against my mouth. I start to slow down and then I stop my breath panting against her sex. I watch her pussy clench against nothing as I remove my finger.

I rise up above, turn her over and spread her ass cheeks. Her tiny asshole perks up between. I lick my thumb and stick it inside her. She grunts, deep but whispers over her shoulder.

“Are you going to fuck my ass now? Please fuck my ass.” And so I go to our bedroom. I grab lube. I squirt some on her asshole and she jumps, and some on my cock. I push the head of my cock against her anus and she stiffens and gasps. I do not push as much as I just make pressure. She opens for me slowly, tightly. Her tight assholr grabs and pulls me down into her. Her voice gets deeper as I feel her ass with my raging cock. Until I am sunk all the way down, and there is no more room to go. Her fingers scratch at the bed spread.  Here legs spread and tighten as I bottom out and just sit there, letting her feel every inch of me. Her ass clenches against me, the anal ring tightening against the base of my cock.  Her asshole milks my cock and she gasps as it fills her.  As she gets used to the girth. The wind outside is howling now but inside our tiny house there is a saturated silence. I whisper to her. Dirty things, things I know make her nipples hard, and make her pussy clench. I whisper to her and grab at her breasts, I paw and pinch her nipples, I squeeze her sensitive breast and tell her what I’m doing.

“Do you feel it? Do you feel my cock Inside your ass?” I slowly, slowly start to fuck her, the feel of her deepening my voice as I try to control myself.

“Your ass is so tight. can you feel how hard you’ve got me. I’m going to cum so hard inside your asshole. Are you ready for my cum?” I ask and she answer with animalistic grunting and a sheet will of pushing back against. Pushing her asshole onto my cock, and the feeling is electric, this idea that she is creating her own pain and loving it as I fuck her tight ass.  I can feel her pussy still clench from the walls of her ass. Still grabbing at air as I fuck her.

Honey, I’m going to cum, I’m gonna, I’m gonna.” I can it boiling up, and she eggs me on, looking behind herself.

“Oh yeah are you going to cum in my ass, let me feel you, cum for me, cum in my ass.” And I can’t stand it, I start to buck and pump and pound into her all the whole thick ropes of cum are bursting from my cock and she takes it all, pushes back Into it, her eyes on fire. Biting her lip, as I fuck her and her hair goes in her eyes, her tits shaking in my hands as I pound her. Meat on meat sound of a butcher back room. I fuck her till I can’t cum anymore and I just stop, still inside her ass and she lays her sweaty head down on her pillow. She jerks and shivers as I lay my full weight on top of her. He ass clenches and milks every spasm from me. When I soften there is this sweet moment that I slip out and it is so sensitive I can hardly handle it, and she jumps and whispers as my milky cockhead slides past her ass. She shudders all the way down my cock and then lets air out as I rest it between her asscheeks.

After a bit, we clean up, put some more wood in the stove and grab some hot tea. We lounge uncovered for right now. She sits comfortable, her pussy showing, a flannel draped across her shoulder, I sit in some shorts and we watch the snow come down in the window. Not much is said, except for content sounds.

It’s a snow day tomorrow, but these days most days are snow days.

We can do what we want. That’s our super power.