I look out upon the expanse of white amidst the dusted trees. Newly fallen, the snow has dampened all sound. It’s an odd sensation, the complete silence in such a vast landscape.
My cheeks burn with cold, but I can’t help stopping to take in the peace, tiny crystal flakes stinging my skin, melting into droplets that slide down my face.
Atop my horse, I take note of how alone we are out here, and I am gripped by the urge to touch myself, to open myself to this quiet snowglobe of solitude. I imagine someone shaking us up and putting us down to watch the whirl of white fall down around the horse’s hooves.
Unzipping my coat and removing my mittens, I lift my sweater, exposing my naked breasts to the scene.
I know whose woods these are, and I imagine him, watching from a distance. He would smile and tuck the vision away for later, alone in his bed.
Flakes fall on my warm flesh, and a light breeze kisses my nipples awake. I squeeze them both between my finger tips, pinching hard, sending a sharp message to my cunt. It twitches in response. I lick two fingers on my right hand and reach them into my pants, finding my clit swollen and my pussy wet shocked my the cold touch of my hand.
I let out a quiet moan, startling my horse. His subtle shifting causes his harness bells to shake, upsetting the quiet even more.
There is little time to pause here. I have promises to keep and miles to go before I am in his arms.
In the village, he waits. And I will be ready for him when I arrive.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
BY ROBERT FROST
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
I love Robert Frost. This is probably my 2nd favorite poem by him, and I felt it fit the prompt perfectly as an inspiration.