I am not a fan of cold weather, even the mild winters I suffer where the temperatures rarely fall below mid-40s.  But there are a few things about winter that I enjoy.  I love snuggling up on the couch, reveling in the feeling of warm fleecy blanket, one of those soft, faux fur types.  I wrap the blanket around my bare legs because, even though it’s winter, I still insist on being half naked at home.  The blanket tickles my legs deliciously.

The shutter slats are open, allowing a beam of winter sunlight to fall over me.  It’s bright enough that I half-close my eyes, but it infuses me with warm leaving my muscles feeling languid.  I am far from a sun worshiper.  I am a regular wearer of sun hats, but in the winter I crave the golden light of the sun.  And this intruding shaft of light provides the light and warmth I crave.

Sitting, closing my eyes against the golden glare, I savor both the sunlight and silky touch of the blanket.  I pull up my shirt wanting to feel the sun on more of my skin.  The first prickle of cold air on my newly uncovered skin almost has me pulling the blanket up.  Instead, I let the chill sink in, slowly leaching the warmth out of my skin, making my nipples pucker, until the sun, that wicked shaft, begins to heat me up.  It’s a diffusion of fire across my bared skin.

I stretch in the sun, sending the fleecy blanket tumbling to pool around my feet.  My skin pulls taut and the sun bakes into my bones.  It brushes my cheek like a kiss, and I let me hands knead my breasts.  This is no frantic touch, but rather a relaxed, drawn out caress, something suited to a slowed down season.

My flesh, already liquid under the sun’s touch, melts under my fingers. My palms glide my belly, warm and golden in the winter sun.  My fingers slip into my panties. I can’t say how much of the warmth I find there is from the sun, and how much is my own wanton nature.  My fingers stroke and tease increasing my heat.  I twist and stretch, all with my eyes closed against the golden light, until I come just as quietly as the sunlight.

As I lay there, one hand still in my panties, I wonder how long that shaft of sunlight will pour through the window.  I decide to start my caresses anew until I find out.