Buying the Virgin

Chapter 23: The Girl Who Sold Herself - Chapter Twenty-Three

My Master grins wickedly. “Oh, don’t worry. We’re going to enjoy our evening together.”

“Where? What?”

“I’ve booked the lodge up in the mountains again.” he grins. “But this time I’ve arranged that it will be

decked up for Christmas when we get there.”

“Christmas tree?” I ask, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Yup.”

“Log fire? Candles?”

“Yup.”

“Mince pies and crackers?”

“Yes, and Michael has packed up a few treats into the back of the wagon here.” Michael beams at this, This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

looking smug.

I look again at the vehicle. “That’s not your usual car, is it? I don’t remember you driving a station

wagon.”

“No, not usually, but the weather forecast isn’t all that good. I thought if we’re going up the mountains,

we’d go in something with four-wheel drive and a decent engine, just in case the snow comes down.”

Squinting up at the brilliant sunshine in a peerless blue sky, this does not seem very likely, but I am not

about to argue about it. Changing the subject, I turn to Michael. “So, what are these ‘treats’ you have

packed up.”

Michael seldom says much, but always, his eyes speak volumes. Eyes slightly cast down, but smiling,

he simply says “Wait and see.”

“Come on.” says my Master, rubbing his arms with his hands. “Snow or not, it’s a bit brisk just standing

here. Let’s get going.”

The three of us pile into the cab of the wagon, with me in the middle, sandwiched between the two

men. It feels like coming home.

Above us is a matchless vault of blue, and the sun is warm. Driving through and out of the city, nothing

seems less likely than bad weather, but as we get out into the countryside there is the sparkle of frost

on grass, and leafless trees stand silhouetted naked against the sunlit sky.

Up into the mountains, and the weather is colder. Climbing up into the pine forests, the firs are coated

with a thick rime and the car crunches over ice-rimmed puddles. A little further along the route and

there is patchy snow on the ground, still sparkling in the sunshine.

But now, the clouds gather and lower, becoming darker, more threatening. Fat snowflakes begin to

splat onto the windscreen. At first, they melt, to be swept away by the wipers, but as we drive further

along the now, rough track, they stick and stay, simply being pushed to one side by the wipers,

gathering on the bonnet before melting away from the heat of the engine. Ahead of us, the track

vanishes under a deepening white layer.

My Master smiles at me reassuringly. “Nearly there now. It’s only about another five miles.”

But as he speaks, the wind is beginning to wail and the snow falls ever thicker. Our headlights simply

reflect back from the white-out ahead of us, and as my Master drops into four-wheel drive, I hear the

engine crank up harder.

Michael, with worry in his voice, “James……”

“I know. I know.” mutters my Master. “I’m sorry Charlotte. But I think we should turn around. We’re so

close now, but it’s becoming dangerous, and I’m not even sure I would see the turnoff to the lodge. We

could drive right past it in these conditions.”

“That’s alright,” I say. “There will be other times. We’ll stay in the city somewhere overnight. A hotel

perhaps. We can still enjoy ourselves together.”

“That’s my Girl.” he grins. And he starts to pivot the steering wheel to turn around.

The wheels screech and spin, but the car goes nowhere. He reverses gear and tries again, with the

same result. Around us, the snow howls by in a full-fledged blizzard. Night is falling, and visibility is

close to zero.

“Looks like we need some help.” My Master taps a number on his phone and after a moment says

“Bob? Yes? It’s James here. We’re trying to get to you, but we’re stuck in the snow. I don’t think we can

make it, but we can’t get out either. Any idea on what’s happening out there?” He nods occasionally,

listening to the voice on the other end. “Yes…. Yes? Oh, right…. Thanks anyway, Bob. Yes, we’ll stay in

contact. No, we’re alright. We have plenty in the car to stay warm with, food, blankets and such.”

He turns to me and Michael. “Well, folks. It looks as though we’re stuck here for the night. They’ll be

clearing the track but they can’t get through until daylight.” Looking at me. “Charlotte. I’m so sorry.

Michael and I had all sorts of plans for this evening, but it looks as though we’re scuppered by the

weather. I think we’re going to be sleeping in the back of the wagon until the snowplough gets through

in the morning.”

Biting my lip, and try my best to seem brave, I ask “Have we got plenty of blankets and things?”

“Oh, yes Charlotte. Really, don’t worry,” says Michael, placing a reassuring hand on mine. “I packed

plenty, just in case. We have everything we need; hot drinks, food, blankets. We’ll be fine.”

“Speaking of hot drinks.” interrupts my Master. “Why don’t we all have some coffee? You brought coffee

didn’t you Michael?”

“Oh yes.” Michael rummages in the back and produces a flask, then another. “Coffee…. and hot

chocolate and…” He rummages again, and with the air of a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat. “….

hot buttered rum.”

“Well,” I say, impressed. “we’ve got the situation we’ve got. We’re not going anywhere. So, let’s enjoy

it.”

Michael and my Master both look at me, a little disbelievingly.

I continue. “We have food and drinks to keep us going. Blankets…. there’s three of us. I bet we can

think of a way of keeping warm eh?” I wink at them and they both crack out laughing. They know

exactly what I am suggesting.

I am trying to make light of our situation. However, whilst the car engine was running, the cab was

warm and comfortable, but now, with the engine off, the temperature is dropping fast. My breath hangs

in front of me in frosty clouds, and my fingers are chilling, the ends white and numb. I rub my hands

together, blowing on them to get the blood flowing.

“Let’s get the blankets out and snuggle up together in the back,” I suggest.

Michael and my Master have not been exaggerating when they say that we have everything we need.

The trunk, accessed from the back seat, because going outside now is unthinkable, produces enough

warm rugs and covers for an Eskimo’s convention. With the seats down, and the rugs spread out, we

all wriggle under together thick, fleecy layers, still fully clothed. Despite the car rocking in the wind, the

whistling blizzard outside, we are snugly inside a kind of furry tent.

Michael’s provisions include a flask of soup, hot mulled wine, most of a Christmas dinner and, despite

having to eat turkey and Christmas pudding cold, after a few minutes, a kind of party atmosphere

develops. Hot buttered rum penetrates my cold fingers and I am toasty and warm right to my toes.

We lie together under the rugs, Michael to one side of me, my Master to the other. There is not quite

enough room for my Master’s long frame to stretch out, but Michael and I are very comfortable.

Sandwiched between my two lovers, I am positively cosy. We are all still fully dressed, but where there

is a will….

My Master is pressed tight up against my back, one hand caressing the curve of my hip and waist

through my clothes. Michael, facing me, has one hand on a breast, the other cupping my face as he

kisses me. His fingers tangling into my long red locks, his kiss is languorous, leisurely. I enjoy the touch

of his sensitive tongue exploring my teeth and lips; the slight roughness of a trace of his stubble,

against my softer skin.

Feeling safe and secure, my libido informs me that it is time for some action. My pussy growing moist,

my breathing growing deeper, I want my lovers inside me.

Behind me, my Master’s erection is pressing into the small of my back. A tall man, he is ‘big all over’ as

they say, and everything is in proportion. Under the covers, he hitches up my skirt to reach my panties,

tugging them down as I flex my hips and bend up my knees to allow their removal. He pulls them down

past my ankles and they vanish somewhere into the hinterland of our warm nest.

Despite the cold outside, I am flushing hot, the blush of arousal spreading upwards over my breasts,

and a shimmer of sweat washing my skin. In the enclosed space, I can smell both Michael’s piny, spicy

scent and my Master’s more earthy, musky perfume, but most of all, I can smell myself, and my own

growing arousal, as my pussy wells up hot, feeling loose and fluid.