BLOG HOP ~ Baby, It's Cold Outside

Art for the Sake of Body Heat:  Cassandra and the Sheriff

Cassandra looked out her window, shook her head, and dropped the curtain back in place.  The Frat boys from Granite Falls College had out done themselves this time. Three phallic columns, crafted out of the prior night's ten inch snow fall, stood out in stark relief thanks to the illumination provided by the lamp posts marking the property line between her yard and the college.  Twice her elderly neighbor, Mrs. Robinson, had called asking what Cassandra intended to do about the sexual works of art prominently taking up a large portion of her side yard which shared part of the public land area of the college’s campus.

Cassandra’s phone rang again.  Sighing, ready to tell Mrs. Robinson take matters into her own hands, Cassandra grabbed the handset.  “Now look Mrs. Robinson, it’s too cold out there to do anything about those damn pricks tonight?”

  

“Excuse me,” a deep distinctly southern male voice asked.  

Cassandra gripped the phone harder, hoping she could keep herself from blushing.  She swallowed hard, counted in every language she knew how to count to ten in, and responded.  “Sorry Sheriff Knox.  Thought it was my neighbor calling again about some kids playing in her yard.”

Marc Knox stood six-foot-five in his bare feet.  With his tight jeans, that hugged his ass like they were molded and cut exclusively for him and his Stetson pulled low on his head, the man turned many a head as he patrolled the streets of Granite Falls.  In his boots and uniform shirt with the sleeves rolled up, hot didn’t begin to touch the look.  Scalding to volcanic boiling might describe the pressure cooker heat he generated every time he got near her.  God, she’d love to run her fingers through his long black hair.  His Native American features sent her steam meter up another notch closer to cataclysmic melt down.   And the man could dance.  Lord, watching his jean covered ass swing and sway as he two-stepped around the dance floor or boogied to an eighties disco song. . .Cassandra fanned herself while eyeing the clock.  Why was Marc calling at ten o’clock at night?

Marc laughed as he heard Cassandra stumble over his next question.  He covered the phone’s mouth piece so she couldn’t hear him.  Lord, the sweet images and erotic thoughts she brought to mind.  He was sure her curves would fit snuggled up against him in complimentary ways. He bet she didn’t even know he thought about her in that way.  “Ah, darlin’ what pricks are you talking about?”

Cassandra’s cough and stutter made him want to reach through the phone and hug her tight to him.  Her pale skin and copper curls set off steam he was sure would set off a smoke detector if he wasn’t careful.  Then again setting off fire alarms and sprinklers was worth the passion and release he’d give both of them if they just had the chance to---another cold burst of wind rattle his office windows and sent another whimper and groan through the ancient heat ducts of his two story office.  The jail was empty due to renovations.  His attached living quarters relied on the same boiler the jail and county courthouse used.

Marc sat up right in his chair.  Cassandra clearing her throat ripped him out of his nude fantasy of them showering together.  He smiled at her reply to his earlier question.    “The Sigma-Xi boys decided the land between their dorm and my place needed some decorating.  Uhmm. . .you know. . .”

Marc knew how mischievous the fraternity could be.   Rumors flew about town along with stories of the wild parties and streaking events from the past.  He’d already gotten numerous calls about the possible design and description of their snow sculpting event.  There wasn’t much he could do until he saw things first hand.  Still he couldn’t resist teasing Cassandra a bit more.  “No I don’t know honey.  Tell me about it.”

Cassandra held the phone out from her looking at the equipment as if it had come to life.  The man who she’d love to see naked with an erection meant for her just asked her to tell him about the three enormous cocks on display outside her bedroom window.   Talk about innuendo.  Fanning herself vigorously, she placed the phone back to her ear.  “I think it’s better if you come see this with your own eyes.”

Marc’s short chortle caused her to flush even more.  His response caught her off guard.  “I probably will.  See I need a place to stay tonight.  Got room for me there?”

Cassandra coughed taking a good hard look in the mirror.  Her hair stood up in places from her tossing and turning.  Her shorty night gown exposed one shoulder and part of her ample breasts.  Never mind she’d forgone panties thinking a night with her sexual toys might help her sleep.  That hadn’t happened thanks to the commotion the artists created and her nosey neighbor.

“G-g-got room for you?”  There she said it.  Asked the question bugging her from the moment he’d asked it.

“Yes, you know that extra room you rent out from time to time.  Damn boiler finally quit.  I need a place to stay until it’s fixed.  So you got room for me?”  Marc’s tone deepened as he spoke.  Cassandra gulped wondering how her prayers got priority on being answered and in the way she fantasized about more than she would ever verbally admit to.  

She gulped again, licked her lips and replied.  “You’re in luck.  The room is yours.”

Her psyche crowed and flashed several images before her.  Marc naked. . . laying in her bed. . . stroking his cock from the tip down to his balls and back.  His eyes upon her and an open condom packet lay next to him.   Her nipples grew taut as she let her mind run with the fantasy forming.  One of her hands reached lower toward the apex of her thighs.

Marc’s voice came through the phone low and clear.  “I’ll be there shortly sweetness.  Maybe we’ll check out those pricks together one at a time.”

Cassandra jumped as the dial tone hummed loudly in her ear.  Marc’s last statement had her fanning herself even more.  Something about sharing heat to keep warm and ward off the chill set her thermostat to boiling.

Posted by Solara Gordon 

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ICE CASTLES

Gypsy rolled out of her snug, warm bed, peered through the curtains to the world outside, and groaned aloud. The few flurries drifting through the air at dusk had called in all their friends and relatives. At least two more feet had fallen last night, to join the massive drifts that already coated the sidewalks, her yard, and all of Talbot’s Peak. The dragon’s roar in her dreams that had roused her from sleep to face this frigid world became the grunt and crunch of a snow plow digging out the town.

She let the curtain fall with a shake of her head. A child of the Deep South, she’d found Montana’s snows enchanting for the first week or so. Now they were simply a headache. Her red wolf hadn’t thick enough fur to keep all the chill out, and she hated when ice clumped between her toes. Yet she refused to leave. Her psychic powers told her she was needed here, in this town of shapeshifters in hiding. The positive effect she had on their lives had to be worth a little—or a lot of—cold.

She had turned from the window when an image her weary eye had passed over suddenly yipped for attention. Gypsy yanked the curtain back again. Yes. That drift beneath the fir was not a drift. As she watched it rose and shook itself, shedding cottony snow from onyx stripes, and gazed expectantly at her window.

Gypsy’s heart warmed. Sergei! Snow and sub-zero temperatures didn’t bother the enormous white tiger. He considered Montana tropical when compared to his native Siberia. He’d been trying to win her over to the idea of enjoying cold weather, so far with mixed results.

“You’ve got another plan for this morning, don’t you?” Gypsy murmured, when he neither shifted to his human form nor moved toward her kitchen door. He simply eyed the window, and her, silently entreating her to join him. She looked at the fresh snow and sighed. “Only you, my frozen love, could get me out in that.”

She slipped out of her heavy wool nightgown, shifted, and left her warm house for the chilly morning outside. The wind smacked her in the face and hooted at the insufficient protection her red wolf coat provided. Instantly Sergei bounded to her side and placed his body between her and the wind. He nuzzled her neck, and she nosed his chin in return. His whiskers tickled her muzzle. Whatever he had in mind, Gypsy knew it would be worth a little ice in her pads.

They had long ago passed the point where words were needed. He slipped into the woods and she followed. Gypsy’s house abutted thick forest, with several trails that led to little clearings where Gypsy performed her meditations in more accommodating weather. Sergei might have chosen one of these. She couldn’t tell for sure. Changed by the snowfall, the forest had her turned around. Sergei seemed to know where he was going, and she trusted him.

All at once the trees fell away, and yet another new sight greeted her. Gypsy stopped short. It had to be one of her clearings, but it had been transformed. A sparkling snow castle filled the little glade, at least seven feet tall, complete with ramparts, the suggestion of a drawbridge, and a single, slightly-lopsided Russian minaret. The hole at the drawbridge was just tall and wide enough to admit a slim red wolf and a massive tiger. Sergei stood beside the hole and motioned her inside.

Within she found more miracles. The interior had been dug out into a chamber almost tall enough for her human form to stand erect. Whoever had dug it out had cleared almost all the snow from the ground. A large box sat against one wall. With the wind cut off it was surprisingly cozy in here, warmer than she would have expected.

After granting her a few minutes to take it all in, Sergei entered, and shifted. The chamber suddenly got much smaller with his seven-foot human body in it. From the box he took a thick blanket, which he spread on the ground. A second blanket followed, along with a Thermos, two mugs, and a Tupperware container packed with snack-sized meat cubes. He sat and draped the blanket over his broad shoulders, and held a corner of it up in invitation.

Gypsy turned human and scuttled under the blanket. His bare skin warmed her like a banked fire. Touches in the right places would flare it up into a blaze, as Gypsy well knew.

Sergei poured hot tea from the Thermos into the mugs. He handed her one. “You like this?”

“I like this very much. Did you build it?”

He snorted. “I hire builders. Otter boys. All over town I see these lovely castles on lawns. I ask around. Who makes these? They send me to otters. I ask, can you make one giant size? Boy looks me in eye and names price. We reach agreement. Was worth it, da?”

“It’s lovely. And so snug. Why is that wall slanted?”

“Back of castle is slide.” He shrugged one shoulder. “They are otters.”

“We’ll have to try it out,” Gypsy said. “Later.” She set her mug aside and snuggled closer to her lover, naked and surrounded by ice but for now deliciously warm.

Posted by Pat C.

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Shaking It...

Dom watched Jada shake her lush ass and swing that long dark hair on the dance floor.  She moved between two of her friends from the ridiculously named doomed love club – grinding against one another, lower bodies twitching in time to the techno dance music filling the air.
 
He moved around the trio enjoying the way his beauty was starting to take pleasure for pleasures sake and to realize ones sexuality was naturally open and accepting.  Too many people feared what they considered outside the “norm.” 
Dom lived happily and enthusiastically outside that “norm.”
 
“Erol,” he addressed the blacksmith with the glowing orange nostrils.  “You really need to find a way to work out that frustration before you burn your nose off.”
 
“SHE needs to stop giving other males a…a…”
 
“A show?”  Dom laughed at the disgruntled dragon.  “Greely is a desirable woman, Erol, and correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t it you she was wrapped around on New Year’s?”
 
“Irrelevant!”  The dragon roared, steam now floating around his head.  “I am the only one she should be gyrating for.”
 
“Ha!  A statement like that’s going to get you in trouble.”
 
“So says Karma, but I do not understand why?”
 
“In Karma’s absence I’ll give the explanation a go.”  Dom loosened his bowtie and sat on the other side of Erol, still facing the dance floor.  “Greely’s ‘dancing’, not gyrating, for herself - not the other men in the room.  Hell, she might even be ‘dancing’ for you, but acting like a caveman will shut down any further pleasure you could have tonight.”
 
Erol looked at him like he had rocks for brains and pebbles were falling from his ears.  The dragon was highly amusing.
 
“I thought you were a, what do they call them, superior?  Not a little girl.”
 
“They call them Dominants, Erol, and yes, I am…” The table flew forward away from the partially shifted dragon.  “…one.”
 
He looked back at the beautiful trio and smirked at their antics.  They’d turned up the heat on their little dance and were now engaging in some public groping and lip play meant to entice their respective males.  He was all for their continued PDA, but the half man, half dragon next to him struggled to keep it together.  It was time to halt this little tease.
 
“Hang in there, my man.”
 
Dom rose and made his way to Jada.  He wrapped himself around her from behind, ground himself against her ass. He slid a hand around her hip, up the front before resting his palm between her breasts.  “That was beautiful, ladies, but Dante’s about to come down hard on the half dragon in the corner.”
 
“Erol!” 
 
They watched as Greely ran across the floor to the object of her tease and tugged at his claws.
 
“Did we take it too far?”  Jada asked in a breathless whisper.
 
“For Erol, definitely.  For me, not so much, but I’ve decided we need to call Mistress P…soon.”
 
Jada’s sigh was music to his ears as he moved her back into the shadows intending on indulging her need for a public display, but one that wouldn’t get them kicked out by Dante.
 
“Erol, baby, come on…it’s cold outside.”
 
“She’s right,” he whispered into his lady’s ear.  “But you know what…”  His hand slid between her legs, cupping her just as she liked.  “It’s warm right here.”

Posted by Serena Shay 

~~~~~~~ 

The Snow Wolf Sculpture 

Cozily cocooned in her bed, Samara glanced out her nearest window. The late morning sun beautifully sparkled the thick blanket of snow covering her large front yard. "Baby, it's cold outside," she murmured, the lyric playing in her head.

"Brrrr..." Samara shivered involuntarily, imagining the icy temps on her short-furred hide. Earlier, once the sun shone brightly over the horizon, she'd shifted and gone for a run in the Peak's park, just to keep in good shape.

Samara smirked, remembering how she'd out-raced a couple of wolf pup shifters – Thor and Loki, as they were known in town. They'd been determined to catch her. At one point, she'd pretended to be treed, mentally laughing at their high-jumping antics.

Certainly, their chases during the bone-chilling weather made exercising more fiercely enjoyable for Samara – given she was an African Wildcat shapeshifter, and much preferred the heat.

Squinting, Samara focused on the life-like snow sculpture on the neighbor's lawn. She'd become intrigued by the magnificent, over-sized wolf. He... and the sculpture was a 'he' by the realistic equipment easily observed whenever she walked by... well, the snow wolf appeared to slightly change position.

Okay, maybe it was some kind of snow blindness. Who knew? But dammit, Samara swore his paws were not in the same stance whenever she walked to Java Joe's then returned.

If she let her imagination run wild, the great white wolf looked as though he'd journeyed from the Arctic. That he was really some ancient wizard-magician on a grand mission... and that this was his way of observing his foes in Talbot's Peak.

Samara smiled at her fantastical imaginings. She should write a book with that plotline. Maybe, it would even sell.

Shaking her head at her musings, Samara scooched deeper into her nest of pillows. She continued reading the erotic romance, her gaze gluing itself to the screen of her new e-tablet.

Dontoya not only took her with his big bold cock, but handled her with care, both emotionally and physically. Her heart swelled with gratitude, and Sherilyn hoped like hell he would continue caring for her this way.

Dontoya, she sang inside her mind. God help her, but the feel of his fine, fine ass was driving her insane with lust. She undulated, matching his slow primal strikes inside her.

"Easy, darlin'," he hoarsely whispered. "Let me do the work this time."

Surprised, Sherilyn slitted her eyes. His smoke-hot gaze met hers, then devoured her face as if he'd found some sort of long-sought heaven.

With a strong thrust of his cock, he pinned her to the bed. "Give me your wrists."
****

Zolaron sniffed in the essence of the little wildcat shifter who endangered his ability to maintain his frozen shape. Every time she passed by, he failed to deny himself that worldly pleasure.

More to importance, Zolaron relied on his wolf nose for tracking the inter-dimensional demon loosed on Talbot's Peak... loosed by the snake-eyed, black arts' magicians he'd battled for the last half century. The slippery creature's power to phase from material to incorporeal couldn't hide its unmistakable sulphurous stench – no matter how faint.

Hence, after meetings with the alpha wolf leader, Dante, and his allies, Zolaron  agreed to remain in the Montana town. He'd joined with the newly formed Circle of Witches who had arrived at Dante's underground compound due to the Summoning.

Together, they combatted the dark supernatural forces being released against the shapeshifter-paranormal community. Zolaron had swiftly realized, the attack came by command of those he called the Serpent Rulers – currently in league with the most sinister faction of the 'military industrial complex'. 

Howl-shout to the rising North wind, Zolaron quaked inside as he resisted the urge to move. Oh curses, indeed! he wanted to chase and rut with the lovely wildcat woman.

After three days of pretending to be a wolf carved out of snow, Zolaron was close as the Earth's breath to discovering the demon's escape portal. Thus, its imminent capture. And extermination. 

Even now, Zolaron's ability to keep his magick strong, to remain an unmoving statue, ebbed away dangerously. The woman's delicious sexual heat as she lay in bed reading one of her romance novels, could very well prove to be his great undoing.

He'd planted images about himself inside her mind with little effort, without consequence to his mission, then observed as her imagination beautifully took flight.

Tormented by the intensity of her sex scent, Zolaron mentally whined and licked his chops. Passionately convincing the little wildcat would be a savage pleasure. No cosmic-splendid doubt. 

Hearing the vibratory opening of the demon's portal, Zolaron switched his focus quicker than the next beat of his heart. Albeit, he'd significantly slowed the rate. 

Glimpsing the position with his spirit eyes, Zolaron abandoned his physical form.  Like a shooting star, he traveled through the ethers, determined to trap his prey.

****

"What the 'f'?" Samara stared at the snow wolf, her eyes wide and threatening to pop out. She couldn't have blinked in the following moments, no matter how hard she tried.

"Odd," Samara muttered for lack of anything else to say. Her jumbled thoughts tumbled over themselves as Samara attempted to make sense out of what she'd just witnessed.

For a split second she'd seen the snow wolf glow, entirely glow – as if he'd been lit internally by a white light. There'd been a following bright flash, then a glittery trail.

Now, nothing. Yet... something was definitely different. Lifeless, the magnificent sculpture looked cold as ice and lifeless.

Samara frowned, not liking the sensation that swept through her. She wanted her snow wolf alive, even if... well, even if he wasn't. Maybe, it was because she'd imagined him as real, as the heroic wizard-magician.

Scowling, in no mood to continue reading despite how much she'd been enjoying the book, Samara collapsed against her mound of pillows. She let her mind wander.

When a scene formed before her mind's eye, Samara didn't dismiss it. Instead she concentrated on the large black hole cut out of a starry night sky.

"Wow," burst from her in a whisper. A battle raged between a horned, devil like creature that looked as if it had been made out of mud, and a tall, white-light being.

Spinning plasma flame, Samara thought, as the foes engaged in some sort of tornadic combat she couldn't fathom. Transfixed, she willed the scene to continue. 
The mud-devil creature suddenly slumped forward, crisscrossed with strands of blue light.

"Imprisoned," she murmured.

Awed beyond belief, Samara straightened from the pillows as the scene faded,  vanishing completely.

'I'm alive,' she heard inside her mind. 'The wolf is alive.'

Stunned to say the least, Samara froze for several moments. Hell, she might as well have been an ice statue outside on the front lawn.

Slowly, so very slowly, she turned her gaze toward the window. Her stomach clutched becoming a hard knot. Her heart raced too fast.

The snow wolf now gazed back at her. Before his noble head had been in profile.

"Okay," Samara managed, despite her rapid shallow breaths, "I think I'm going to faint."

As the words left her lips, a state of calm descended over Samara. She picked up her e-tablet wondering at the sudden change. She felt normal yet not normal.

But whatever... she wasn't going to analyze anything now.

With a toss of her shoulder-length, tawny hair, Samara settled back against her pillow pile. Just like a magic spell, she thought. Certainly, a case of high strangeness, if nothing else. 

Compelled, Samara gazed at the tablet's screen. The romance story she'd been reading had been replaced by a free read she'd recently downloaded. "Quick-Fix Wedding," Samara whispered. 

****

'Quick-Fix Wedding,' Zolaron repeated to himself. He smiled, his snow wolf lips curling upward. After centuries of time, he'd finally found his mate.

~~~~~~

 
Have a Magickal Shapeshifting New Year...  

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

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