Couples Ski Weekend

(L) – This story contains strong language. 

My husband Tom and I so much enjoy reading MarriageHeat stories out loud to each other. It has become one of our favorite forms of mental foreplay. We are both turned off by porn and are worried about its harmful effects. Watching a sexy rom-com together is fun, but wholesome ones are like good men—hard to find.

Most of the stories on this site have the ring of truth—“artistic verisimilitude,” as I was taught in my creative writing classes in undergrad—as well as an element of voyeuristic attraction, as if we are imagining what it would be like to watch another married couple making love. We ran across one of these stories a few months ago, “Voyeurs in the Dark,” from September of 2020, where a couple watches another couple on a beach going at it, and getting caught up in the passion of it all. It was very hot stuff!

Anyway, that story kindled a memory from when we were first married, over 35 years ago (yes, that’s no typo), and I thought I’d share it with our little community here. (I hope this story makes it past the editors. They have high standards and rightly so!)

We had been married for around six months and were still in that stage of our relationship where, well, to be honest, we both wanted to fuck each other, a lot! We often went at it every week night, and two to three times a weekend, sometimes more! At my job I would daydream about Tom and have to go masturbate in my car at lunch. (TMI, I know!)

Anyway, in January we were invited to go snow skiing with one of Tom’s partners and his wife. They were older and very wealthy. They had teenage children, and were very kind and solicitous to us.

The husband was a pilot and owned his own airplane. They had a beautiful ski-in ski-out condo at Beaver Creek, and invited us to join them.

Although we were avid skiers, we initially declined—it was far beyond our means at the time, as they enjoyed an entirely different lifestyle than two newlyweds. But then they said, “Don’t worry, we got this,” and so we thought, “Why not live a little? Sure, we’d love to!”

A month later we were landing in Colorado and climbing into an SUV with all our gear.

Their place was cozy and well appointed, very “western” in style, and we found our way to one of the guest bedrooms on the second floor.

A bit of “setting the scene” is necessary. The place had a huge living area, a fireplace you could practically roast an elk in, incredible views of the slopes and snow covered peaks in the distance, and of course, a hot tub!

After we had been there a couple of days, we were finally setting into the unfamiliar, lavish environment. Tom and I spent most of our time wearing ourselves out on the slopes, more so than Sean and Amy, who were more into good wine and gourmet restaurants. To each his own, right?

Anyway, one afternoon it was snowing so hard it made it tough to ski, so Tom and I opted for lunch at a place on the slopes, a couple of margaritas, and a “nap,” though I knew that really meant an opportunity for some great afternoon sex!

We skied back to the condo early in the afternoon to find a welcoming fire in the fireplace and our hosts soaking in the hot tub, drinking wine. It was still snowing, and the tub was bubbling. They invited us to join them, but we declined in favor of our “nap.” We made plans to meet up later for dinner, then headed up to our room on the second floor.

The two upstairs bedrooms opened onto an interior balcony above the living room, and had a view out the huge wall of windows that overlooked the outdoor deck and hot tub. As we went into our room, Tom glanced over his shoulder.

“Um, don’t look now, but I think Amy is naked.”

Of course, I looked. Sure enough, Amy had stepped out of the hot tub to re-fill her glass. She was naked as the day she was born, and still quite beautiful. Her blonde hair was pulled back and in a pony tail, large breasts that were most likely surgically enhanced, and a cute butt, as best we could tell.

“Quick, shut the door and don’t let them see us!” I whispered sharply.

“I don’t think they care,” Tom said. “Besides, they’re the ones who are naked, not us.”

Shame on us, but we couldn’t take our eyes off them. We knelt down on the floor and peered through the balcony railing like a couple of little kids watching the grown ups at a party we weren’t invited to.

Sean must have been naked too. He slid over, almost as if he wanted to be seen, and Amy stepped into the hot tub and snuggled up to him. Soon it was clear that her right arm was furiously churning the water between Sean’s legs.

That was enough for me. I retreated to the bedroom. “Tom, get in here right now and close the door. That’s their private time!” I insisted.

“Shhh. She’s sucking his cock now,” Tom said. “Goodness, it’s impressive too! He’s got his head back, apparently quite comfortable.”

“Stop looking this instant!” I said, half mad, half laughing.

“Jeez Anne, she’s climbed up on him and is riding him like a jockey! You gotta see this!”

“No, you gotta see this!” I said.

While Tom was watching Sean and Amy, I had peeled off my ski clothes and wrapped myself up in the fur throw blanket on the bed. Tom turned to look at me, and I opened the fur and displayed my then-26-year old-body, naked but for my ski socks, and ready for some attention.

Soon Tom and I were under the covers. Watching Sean and Amy had us both turned on. Tom started to go down on me, as we had taken the phrase “she comes first” as our sex mantra early in marriage, but I stopped him. “No,” I said. “I want it all, and I want it now,” quoting a Queen song we both loved.

Tom obliged. Even in our aroused state, Tom took his time. I both loved it and wished he’d get on with it at the same time. He teased my clit with the head of his cock. I pulled my knees back and farther apart, and raised my butt off the bed to give him full access. He slid his knees up under my butt until he was kneeling upright. Tom in his mid 20s was quite fit—a beautiful man, really—and I loved watching him watch me. 

He took his cock in his hand and very slowly placed it at the entrance of my waiting pussy. He didn’t push in right away. He just very slowly pressed and stopped, pressed and stopped.

I must have moaned a little, because Tom said, “You want more? You want this cock, baby?”

I nodded my head and let out a whimper, and I tried to scoot down onto him, but he stopped me by putting his hand on my pubic mound and running his fingers through my soft strawberry blonde hair. (Nobody shaved in the 90s!)

I responded by wrapping my legs around his hard ass, rubbing my clit with my right hand, and cupping my breasts with my left. The cold and the excitement had both my nipples fully erect and quite sensitive.

Tom continued to hold back. “If you want it, you’re going to have to beg for it.”

In that position, the angle of his cock was pressing against the top (or anterior) side of my vagina, only about two inches inside me. I didn’t know it then, but that was right on my G spot, and at 26, I wasn’t even sure I had one. All I knew was the pleasure was unusually intense. Combined with my fingers on my clit and Tom’s cock barely inside me, I could feel myself approaching an orgasm much faster than I was used to.

“Don’t move. There. Right there. Oh my! I’m going to come already.”

Sure enough, within about fifteen seconds, it was as if a dam had broken inside me. I could literally feel a cascade of release start in my chest and rush down through my pussy to my thighs then toes. My well-toned ski legs were shaking, and I probably gave Tom’s back a free chiropractic adjustment from gripping him so hard. He had made me come before, but nothing like this!

“Fuuuuccckkk . . .” I groaned, shattering my formerly ladylike vocabulary. I wasn’t a big talker in bed back then, but I am now. I think I might have scared Tom with that sudden outburst!

Then I realized we were both in a puddle of . . . whatever. Sweat, margarita, pussy juice, snowmelt, who knows? In 1989, squirting wasn’t the thing it is now.

“Sorry . . .” I gasped. “I think I made a mess. Your turn.”

“My God Annie! That was incredible!” Tom  said.

“Shhh, baby. Just keep fucking me.” I was so turned on, I think I came again.

Tom finished, adding a load of his cum to the mess I was now marinating in. As soon as he rolled off of me, I jumped to my feet and jerked the covers off the bed like a juggler yanking a tablecloth out from under a pile of plates!

“Annie, it’s freezing in here!” Tom exclaimed. “Blanket please!”

I obliged. I bundled up the rest of the sheets, checked the mattress—no stain, thank you God—threw on a plush guest robe, and popped the sheets into the upstairs laundry. I’d figure out a cover story for our hosts later.

We met downstairs about 6 for dinner.

“How was your nap?” Amy asked with a smile.

“How was the hot tub?” I replied.

Tom just looked sheepish. Sean was beaming.

We all burst into spontaneous laughter.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After the ski trip, we only heard from them a few more times, and after politely declining another weekend invitation due to family commitments, it was radio silence. We learned later that they were headed for divorce. Let’s just say they ran in the fast lane, and we didn’t, and leave it at that. While they never came out and said it, I’m convinced that we were invited to be their weekend sex toys.

But the point of my story is that a voyeuristic experience now and then can be a real turn on. This one was our first and last, until discovering this website. Thank you for making our fantasies a bit more interesting!

Love and blessings,

Anne