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Happy first day of Spring, everyone! Although it seems like Pat’s still stuck in the middle of winter. At least he’s making the best out of the situation.

Fun fact: this commission is actually based on a little video I recorded during a nor'easter for some of my more intimate friends. I ended up enjoying the experience so much that I just had to get an art piece of it. I’ve always wanted to commission Draite at some point and I couldn’t be happier to have done it for this project specifically. He straight-up knocked it out of the park with this piece

I’d also like to thank wellifimust and achshalzaab for their help with editing and proofreading. Go check out some of their writing as well.

And if you enjoy the story, you can download yourself a digital copy of the Google Doc right here.

Anyway, onto the story!

Wanking in a Winter Wonderland

Snow days aren’t as much fun as an adult. While childhood gives you the freedom of sledding and making snow angels when you’d otherwise be in school, adulthood brings upon you the responsibility of shoveling out the driveway. And since it’s winter break, I don’t even get a day off from university.

“The forecast says it’s not gonna stop snowing until tomorrow. Twenty-six inches total,” My mom relayed to Dad and me. “So if we shovel some of it today, shoveling tomorrow shouldn’t be as bothersome.”

Ever the workaholic, that woman. Of course, my old man agreed, itching to give the new snowblower a spin. So, I bundled up: a wool jacket over a long-sleeve shirt over a tank-top, denim jeans under my snow pants, two pairs of open-toed wool socks beneath my uncomfortable, closed-toed snow boots, and an ushanka on my head to top it all off. Might sound like over kill, but Scouts taught me plenty about the dangers of hypothermia. Heck, keeping warm is the only thing I remember from my time in the troop. If I ever needed to tie a bowline or a two half-hitch to save my life, I’d be screwed.

Digression aside, it turns out Dad’s shiny new machine isn’t the catch-all solution we hoped it’d be. First, we had to throw our backs out carving a path to the garage to get to the damned thing. After that, we still had to tend to the powder piled up on our vehicles. And don’t even get me started on the thin ground layer of the white stuff that the snowblower left behind. You know, the coating that would turn into black ice if left unattended? The layer that took a metric ton of elbow grease to pick up with our dull shovels?

The three of us spent a solid two hours out there before calling it a day. We treated ourselves to warm showers and cups of hot cocoa, as is the tradition in our household. Mugs in hand and dressed in their comfiest pajamas, my parents went back to enjoying the snow day, with Dad logging into his computer in the den while Mom continued watching her K-dramas in the living room. I, wrapped in my robe, crawled back into bed to goof off on my phone. Getting comfy and pulling the device from its charger, I spotted a notification from my girlfriend Perci. Tapping on it opened her message to reveal…

“Oh for the love of… Really, Perci?”

You’d think after a fever of 102°F and mucus spilling out her nose like Niagara Falls, that poodle would’ve figured out that running around naked in the freezing cold was a bad idea. Nope! Not even a month later and she has the audacity to send me a pic of her frolicking in the snow in all her black-furred glory.

Patrigue:

Perci, I love you, and you look amazing, but have you learned NOTHING from last time?*

Perci:

relax i wasnt stupid about it this time

i was only out there for the picture

took like a minute at most

followed by a hot bath to warm up

I rubbed the bridge of my beak. At least she’s being cautious about her recklessness?

Patrigue:

Just… why though? Isn’t your body screaming at you to go back inside where you won’t get hypothermia?

Perci:

tbh I usually grow my fur out for the winter so that prolly helps

but yeah the cold can sting a little bit

like not enough to actually hurt but just enough to feel it

I typed, asking her why she was comparing the weather to a paddle or a flogger. Half-way through the message, however, I already sussed out the answer. Between her exhibitionistic photo in my messages and the experiences we’ve shared in (and out of) the bedroom, it was quite obvious.

Patrigue:

This is another one of your kinks, isn’t it?

Perci:

pat you already know I like being naked

Patrigue:

I’m talking about the cold!

Perci:

oh

real talk i never thought of it that way

tho like andrew and i have done ice play stuff

There it is.

Perci:

was fun

not as fun as the stuff we typically do but it was still fun

still would recommend giving it a try

Patrigue:

Are you talking about ice play or streaking in snow?

Perci:

i meant the first one but hey dont knock it til you try it

oh now im imagining andrew spanking me in the snow

oh fuck brb poodle needs petting

Inside, I hoped. Mind you, I’m not one to kinkshame. I’m grateful for everything she’s taught me: how to be dominant in the bedroom, how to go down on a woman, and most notably, how to feel comfortable in my own naked body. Nonetheless, public nudity is already risky enough without the chance of getting frostbite on your pecker. For a kinkster who’s educated me on the concept of “safe, sane, and consensual,” I had to question how safe or sane she was being.

No matter. She’s neither in the hospital nor in jail, so any worry was, at the moment, trivial. I had my comfiest clothes on, a full phone battery, and a playlist of let’s plays to catch up on.

“Pat, are you planning on doing your laundry today?” I heard from the living room.

Damn it, right as I’m ready to unwind, she reminds me. Yes, today is typically laundry day for me and as much as I’d love to put it off for tomorrow, if I didn’t do then and there, I’d forget to do it completely.

I sighed, “Yeah, might as well.”

“In that case, would you mind moving the towels around while you’re down there?”

Ugh! “Sure thing, Mom.”

I shouldn’t complain. She’d move them around herself if she could. All that shoveling must’ve had her arthritic knees acting up. I’ve found myself doing a lot more chores that involve going up and down the stairs since her diagnosis. It’s a minor inconvenience, but it’s better than letting the house fall into ruin.

Just throw the towels in the dryer, load your stuff in the wash, and get back in bed.

I fought against my bed’s gravity as I set myself vertical. With a yawn, I stood and stretched my body before picking up my heavy, clothes-filled hamper, lugging it down the basement stairs and into the laundry room. It’s a small corner by the basement exit to the backyard, situated directly under the den. One could often hear the faint hum of action movies or police procedurals from above, but the upper floor was relatively quiet today.

I went about my business, filling the machines with their respective textiles, along with detergent for the washer and fabric softener for the dryer. As I did, the noise of a howling wind caught me off guard. I gazed at the door that voiced Mother Nature’s harsh spell. We hadn’t bothered to shovel the other side of the door due to how infrequently we used it. If anything it was more of a hindrance than a boon to the house. In substantial downpours, rain would flow from the patio down the staircase and pool at the often clogged drain at the bottom. We’ve soiled many towels trying to keep the basement dry during storm season. Enough for my morbid curiosity to bubble. How many inches of white were piled up against the door? Given the foot of snow already on the ground, the confined space could easily have more, could it not? Up to one’s navel possibly, like in the viral videos of snowstorms in Canada or Russia. Eager to see the phenomenon in real life, I unlocked the door and swung it open.

My face fell as I stared out the window of the storm door. Instead of the yard-high snowbank I’d hoped for, the sight of dull, grey concrete flooded my eyes. The sparse inches along the ground and steps proved my expectations too lofty. I cringed internally as I remembered that while rain automatically flows to its lowest possible altitude due to Earth’s downward pull, snow, like most solids, does not. If anything, the increased surface area of the dwelling made it harder for the snow to stick.

Meteorological blunder aside, it looked quite cozy compared to the frozen purgatory above. Heck, Perci would probably love it for her little outdoor adventures. With the alcove hiding her eight feet underground, not even the nosiest of neighbors would be able to spot her being indecent. That’s not even mentioning the temperature.

not enough to actually hurt but just enough to feel it

Maybe it’s the danger. In certain contexts, exhibitionism can provide the rush of adrenaline and endorphins via the thrill of almost being caught, only actually getting caught if one is foolhardy enough. However, while the taboo of nudity in public is mostly enforced via societal and legal norms, the taboo of nudity in the cold is enforced by nature itself. If Scouts taught me anything, it was how dangerous the great outdoors can be, especially when temperatures drop below zero. Of course, it proves less of a threat when the comforts of modern living are only a few paces away, but could the chills of winter truly be mitigated to the point of objectifying it for kink? Again, curiosity got the better of me as I pulled my phone from my pocket, opened the internet and typed “how fast does hypothermia set in while nude in freezing weather” into the search bar.

“Huh…”

Without proper coverage in freezing temperatures (32°F or 0°C), mild hypothermia can develop in as little as 30 minutes, and life-threatening conditions can occur in under two hours. Several factors can accelerate or decelerate the development of hypothermia, such as size, weight, volume of body fur, body dampness, and wind chill.

Guess that settles it; I was being overly cautious. However, now that I knew the weather was survivable, another question took shape: Is it as pleasurable as Perci made it out to be? With only one way to ascertain an answer, I opened the storm door.

Instantly, the icy air poured in, brushing against my face. After two hours of manual labor, it certainly woke me up, but I’d hardly consider it erotic. No, what truly titillated me was the zephyr that snuck up my robe. The plumage along my backside stood on end. I could feel my balls shrinking into me. The survivalist in me still whispered to close the door. In spite of all this, a bump in my robe extended outward, throbbing at Mother Nature’s caress.

I took a step outside to peer upwards. Snow still fell from on high, with flakes freckling my face and sleeves, melting upon impact. How would this feel against my feathers? I thumbed at the twist in my sash. As pried at the knot, however, my hand’s motor function slowly dissolved, overwritten by the cryonic pins and needles in my foot.

“Ah! Shitshitshitshitshitshit!”

I reflexively stepped back inside and let the door slam shut. I braced my back against the wall as I massaged my frozen appendage until my nerves recovered. How the hell does Perci put up with this? Another internet search informed me of the insulated paw pads that help canines protect their feet from the cold. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Naturally, she’d have the evolutionary advantage for streaking in the goddamned snow. Meanwhile, I’m going flaccid trying to protect my own body from frostbite. It’s not fair.

Once I could feel my toes again, I set my foot down, closed my eyes, and took a breath. Just because she likes this doesn’t mean you have to as well, I tried to rationalize. You’re your own bird and there’s nothing wrong with that. Opening my eyes again, my gaze fell upon the dryer tumbling away full of towels. The timer read 53 minutes. A small memory flickered.

relax i wasnt stupid about it this time

took like a minute at most

followed by a hot bath to warm up

There are few things as pleasurable as the fresh warmth of a newly laundered towel on your skin. Perfect for staving off the cold. I smiled and shook my head. Going into this blindly was my mistake, but with the knowledge and resources I have now, I could better prepare myself. I set a timer on my phone before shutting the door and heading back upstairs. I may have already bathed, but in 53 minutes I’d have the next best thing.

I was lucky my parents didn’t spot me as I headed to the basement. It would’ve been difficult to explain why I was wearing my sneakers with my robe. Same for the scarf bundled up in my fist. The washer still had another twenty minutes left, but the dryer was already done. I restarted the spin cycle, making sure those towels would be extra-warm when I was done.

Fifty-five minutes remaining, the dryer said. Enough time to prepare myself.

I undid my sash and opened my robe. The garment slid off my shoulders with ease before I bunched it up and plopped atop the dryer, leaving me bare from the ankles up. My open-toed sneakers may not be the best for winter weather, but the soles should at least keep my toes out of the snow.

I then secured the scarf around my neck. I would’ve brought my ushanka instead were it not still damp with my sweat. Moisture is a person’s worst enemy when it comes to dropping temperatures after all. I know the myth that most body heat is lost through one’s head has since been debunked, but what little coverage it gave me eased my nerves about exposing the rest of me.

Fifty-four minutes, the timer flickered.

With the physical prep done, all that was left was the mental. While the web said I had thirty minutes before having to worry about hypothermia, I had to assume that number was regarding a moderately dressed individual. With that in mind, I rounded down to a five-minute time limit to play it safe. And if I wanted to cum that quickly, I’d need to use my imagination beforehand.

Breathing heavy at the thought of what I was about to do, I wrapped my digits around my limp cock. I closed my eyes, painting the walls of my mind with sexual experiences. A raccoon woman was getting spanked at a crowded party. A naked bear sodomized by his mistress’s strap-on. A goat and a poodle pretending they’re not being watched by their voyeur as they make love. A few strokes was all it took to fill my palm.

I opened the first door, gracing my eyes with the view of falling snow once again. Even with the second door keeping the solstice outside, goosebumps spread across my naked body. My heart racing, I looked back at the dryer one last time. Fifty-three minutes. Let’s make this quick, I thought as I pushed the door open and stepped out.

Jack Frost held nothing back as he embraced my body in an all-pervasive hug. The atmosphere weaved itself over and under every uncovered feather. Wispy vapors poured out from my chattering beak. My hands went to my body in search of warmth. The act only worked to further stimulate the skin under my plumage, reminding me of how exposed I was. It was only natural my hands would fall below my waist.

Erection in hand, I raised my tail and laid my free hand against my glutes, digging into the muscles as my lovers have done many times before when fellating me. I shut my eyes, urging myself on with memories of our dalliances. Try as I might, the snowflakes painted my plumage in porcelain-white polka dots, and their glaciation of my skin left a much greater impression. Like Mother Nature herself was watching my perverted display and testing my resolve with her wicked precipitation. And who was I to deny her challenge?

The snow crunched under my sneaker as I took a step upward. Then another. Then one more, just enough for the top of my head to peek above the alcove. The winter wisps toyed with my locks, brushing them every which way. Is that the best you can do? Another step set the tempest against my face and shoulders. One more brought it to my chest. My own heartbeat pulsed in my palm as I attempted to survey my surroundings. The yard was unrecognizable painted white. Even with clouds blocking out the sun, the pale glaze covering everything left me half-blind until my eyes adjusted. Oddly enough, once they did, the most notable thing among the sea of flakes was what wasn’t there: people.

Between treehouses, patio decks, and other forms of elevated construction, the neighbors bordering us had vantage points high enough to spy into our yard. Their habitual barbecues, pool parties, and sleepovers have long been a reason why I seldom exhibit in my backyard. Silently, I thanked the snow. Whether they were busy clearing out their driveways or waiting out the storm in the safety of their homes, none of them would be out to bother me tonight. The revelation alone was enough to push me one more step higher.

There was no hiding it now. Were they present, any one of my neighbors could easily spot my talon pistoning along the hard, twitching, length jutting out from my pelvis. Heaven knows Mother Nature bore witness, her icy lips kissing my haunches and nethers. Whether to warm my most sensitive part or to bring me over the edge, my wrist accelerated without my thinking. Enveloped by the frost, yet my insides simmered. The cloud of breath flowing out of me grew thicker as my lungs burned.

Fuck, I need to sit down.

The cold, snow-covered stairs against my buttocks electrified my senses further. My legs open, the wind snuck itself between them, tickling my inner thighs. More. I leaned into the steps, baring my perineum and tailhole to the winds and allowing the erotic chill to climb up my back. My cock stood as tall and as thick as it could. Still, it throbbed at each new exposure. With my body encased in Arctic conditions, the warm friction of my fingers was paradise for my manhood, pumping closer and closer to release. My hips bucked as the internal walls cracked. I couldn’t stop. My pelvic muscles flexed, desperate to hold on the pleasure coursing through them, but it was in vain. The walls came crashing down. My vision went even whiter as my cock burst, painting the concrete below.

My toes curled against my soles with each spurt of semen leaving my member. I continued massaging myself even after my seventh and final emission, inarticulately begging for more. Soon enough, clarity came to me and I pulled my exhausted body up to stand and walked back inside.

My numbed senses woke up to the heat in an instant. I shivered like I had climbed out of an unheated pool, hugging and rubbing my shoulders. After a few seconds of paralysis, I waddled to the dryer.

Fifty-one minutes, it read. Far below my initial time limit. Nice. I shut the machine off and pulled out the first towel I could get my hands on. It was a washcloth. I tossed it back in and grabbed an actual towel. It burned so good as I rubbed it across my torso and backside, wiping away the melted snow. I tackled my limbs next, paying extra attention to my vulnerable fingers and toes. Content with my temperature, I flung my robe back on and piled the dry towels into a basket, making sure to keep the one I used separate atop the dryer. Load in hand, I vowed to come back for it when switching out my clothes in the wash. In the meantime, I prayed Mom wouldn’t notice it missing from the pile.

After a trip upstairs and a bit of folding linens, I was free again. I didn’t get too comfortable, knowing my laundry would be done in the next fifteen minutes. Regardless, I sat in bed and opened my phone. Another selfie of Perci (indoors this time) greeted me, or more accurately, a picture of her dripping folds, raw after her masturbation session.

My mouth grew wet with saliva, Got damn, if I hadn’t just cum… Eh, I can save it for later.

Patrigue:

I swear, if the roads weren’t inundated with snow, I’d drive over right now just to shove my beak in there! You look so fuckin