I knew I was dead; I just knew it. I shouldn’t have stormed away from that dickhead who wouldn’t leave me alone on the slopes. I’m a decent skier, but not ready for the slope I found myself on. It wasn’t even part of the resort, so trying to get down it was the worst possible decision in a day of bad decisions.

Semi-intelligently, I took off my skis and tried to find my way back, but I think I got turned around when I ran into a partially frozen rocky creek. I didn’t remember crossing it on the way out, but I was getting really, really confused.

My ski suit was good, but the cold was starting to get to me! It didn’t help when I crossed the creek and ended up knee-deep in icy water. My ski boots became heavier and heavier, even after trying to pour most of the water out. One small part of my brain knew I was in serious trouble, but I kept moving in hopes that I would see the resort magically appear in front of me. At some point, I passed out!

I woke up snuggled in a warm, wooly soft blanket that smelled like it had been used by several generations of horses. I was content just to lay there recovering, but at one point, I sneezed and the blanket below me moved. I tilted my head up and came face to face with… something!

Its face reminded me of a Star Wars Tauntaun, you know the thing Luke was riding on the ice planet, Hoth. Only this one didn’t have horns, just a similar fur-covered face. I gave serious thought to screaming, but my body wasn’t up for that level of activity. I looked up at him, although how I knew it was him, I had no idea. But I looked up at him, he looked down at me and I realized two things instinctively.

First off, if he was going to hurt me, I would already be hurt. He certainly wouldn’t have picked me up from wherever the hell I had fallen and brought me in here and warmed me up.

The second thing I realized was an old saying about a bird flying south for the winter. I don’t know if you ever heard it, but it went something like this.

A bird waited too long to head south and ended up nearly frozen solid on the ground near a tree. A dog wandered by and took a very healthy dump on the bird. which warmed the bird up and he felt so good he started singing. A cat heard the bird song and came dug out the bird and then ate him. There were several morals: First not everyone who shits on you is an enemy. Second not everyone who digs you out of a pile a shit is a friend. Finally, if you are warm and happy in a big pile of shit, keep your big mouth shut!

So, as you can see, I decided to not scream because I had no idea what might happen next, after all, while it might have smelled really bad, it was warm and dry. So, I did one of the few sensible things I did all day and snuggled deeper into my furry savior and fell back asleep.

I woke up later, how much later I had no idea. But as I slowly regained consciousness, I wanted to tell my boyfriend to knock it off.

He was always a persistent bugger especially in the morning when his morning wood didn’t want to go down. Somehow, he had got under me and was pushing against me kinda hard. I came awake and realized it wasn’t my boyfriend, who I had dumped a while ago. Yes, he was a persistent bugger about sex, but he wasn’t very good at it. He often left me unfulfilled, if you know what I mean. It was one of the things that led to the break-up. Not the only thing, but one of the things. I figured I deserved better than to have to take matters into my own hands in the bathroom once he fell asleep. The only good thing to say was he usually fell asleep quickly afterward.

No, I wasn’t having sex, but the individual who rescued me and kept me quite warm was obviously turned on and I was pressed against what felt like a very large and firm… I was trying to come with an appropriate description. It wasn’t baseball bat size, but felt thicker and maybe a little shorter. Maybe a full-sized loaf of Italian bread, but much firmer than any bread. In any event, it felt oh-so fucking good. I think you should understand I was in a long dry-spell which, to paraphrase a TV show I still loved, ’twas nothing twixt my nethers that ain’t had batteries’ in way too long. Besides, I owned him. Yes, whatever you might call him, he was certainly a him, unless he suddenly grew a third leg while I was laying there.

I wriggled out of my ski coveralls and soon was naked from the waist down. He still hadn’t done anything to me, which was fine with me. He was pretty much just laying there right up until I took his member and put it to my cunny, just pushing the tip in seemed to take forever, even though by that point I was dripping wet. Then he certainly responded and pushed deep with me! At the moment his cock rammed into me, I screamed into his fur. It wasn’t a scream of pain, although he was certainly larger than anyone who had ever been there before, it was more of an ‘Oh-My-Fucking-God’ scream. My dry spell was over and it fucking felt wonderful!

I slowly rode him, trying my best to keep him from just flipping me over and fucking with absolute abandon. Then I felt a second presence that laid across my back. I think the other’s name must have been ‘Randy’ because he didn’t wait for an invitation, just tried to push right in. I didn’t complain, Those two hit places that made me feel like a virgin all over again!

There was some grunting from the one below me, but they seemed to know what they were doing because once the two of them got into a rhythm, I could only close my eyes and let the two do whatever they want. I started cumming and I’m not sure I stopped for a very long time. No one tried to kiss me, which was a good thing because it took a lot of bitching at my ex to get him to realize that bad breath and a lousy tasting mouth were the quickest way to turn me off.

These two didn’t seem to care about kissing and they certainly didn’t give a shit about foreplay. I was like a rag doll between them and, as odd as it might sound, I didn’t fucking care after two or three orgasms. At some point, the body and mind gave out. I woke up alone, in a small cave. It felt strange waking up still warm like the two of them had just vanished into thin air. I was still naked from the waist down and covered by a filthy blanket, an actual blanket this time around, I couldn’t even tell the color it was so dirty and the small cave I was in was pretty dark. There was a noise at the mouth of the cave and I saw two ski patrollers standing there looking as shocked at finding me and I was to be found.

I’m not sure they bought the story of taking off my boots and overalls after getting wet in the creek, well I think the guy did. The female patrol member wasn’t buying it, but she didn’t say anything. It was more her look than anything else. I refused to say anything about the two — I’m still not sure what to call them. The patrollers wrapped me up, put me on a sled thing, and dragged me back to the lodge. It was kinda fun riding like that.

Medically, I was alright, no frostbite, just a bit dehydrated and exhausted. Apparently, I wandered onto the next mountain over and it was the morning before they found my tracks and started looking in that direction.

I woke up the next morning and Miranda, the female ski patroller, was sitting in my room in the lodge infirmary. She looked at me in such a way that I was more confused than anything.

“You met them, didn’t you?”

“Who?” I tried my best innocent look, but I was never very good at it, just ask my parents, it wasn’t working on Miranda either.

She smirked, “Let me tell you a story:

I was skiing here a few years back. A child got lost and everyone who could ski was called out to search. I pushed too hard, beyond my capabilities back then. I got lost myself and for whatever reason, the radio I had couldn’t reach anyone. I found a cave for shelter, built a fire for warmth, and fell asleep.

I woke up with a pair of Yeti’s sharing my fire. I was shocked, but neither made any threatening noises, so I just watched them as they watched me.

At her pause, I interrupted, “You never told anyone?”

“Hey, it’s just a story, right?” Miranda said with a smile. She continued:

The two were male. After a while, one of them leaned back and a pretty impressive cock was sticking straight up. Don’t get me wrong, he was a pile of whitish hair, but his cock was about sixteen inches, straight as an arrow, and without any hair at all. He started stroking it, masturbating with a vengeance. I think if one of my boyfriends ever pulled on his like that, he would pull it out by the roots.

It was a surprising turn-on. For a minute, I was thinking he was a guy with a big cock in a funny costume. Maybe it was everything, but I found myself excited. I slipped a hand down into my ski pants and realized the other one was watching me, not his friend.

After a while, he pulled me over, stripped off my ski pants surprisingly easily and he settled me on his cock. If anything, he felt larger than his friend. I rode him to several orgasms. His body mattered little as my whole world seemed focused on his cock. I was exhausted more quickly than he did and after a while, we changed positions and I found myself being pushed into the ground as he fucked the hell out of me doggie style. I came — I have no idea how many times and when I came back to awareness, they were gone.

She paused and asked again, “You met them, didn’t you?”

I couldn’t deny it, not with how she was looking at me so earnestly. I nodded.

She smiled, “I thought so. I’ve been looking for them ever since that one time. I even joined the ski patrol to keep looking for them.”

I must have looked puzzled because sure they fucked me better than ever and I was indebted to them for saving my life. But I would like to think they were amply rewarded!

My eyes widened at her next words and they also frightened me more than a little, “You see, they left me pregnant!”

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than Lushstories.com with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © 2020 by Brookell. This story may not be reproduced in any form without the express permission of the author.

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