I Should Have Been in Church

I should have been in church, sitting in front of the
congregation behind the little table with its trays covered by a
white cloth. I should have been chatting with Craig and Steve and
getting dirty looks from our folks for not paying attention as
the speaker droned on. I should have been breaking the bread of
the sacrament as Craig read the blessing from the note-card out
of site on the table, and then handing the trays to the assembled
deacons for distribution to the parents and their whiny children,
the bored teens and sleepy seniors.

But I wasn't in church. I was up in the Wasatch Mountains near
Solitude. I was on virgin snow, tracked only by rabbits and the
occasional bobcat. Technically, I was also trespassing. But I
didn't care. This was the first time I'd been out this year. And
it couldn't have been a better day for it. There had been a
series of four storms within a week, storms that had dumped
ninety inches of perfect powder in the high mountains. But this
Sunday morning the sun was up, the skies were clear and the air
was crisp and clean.

I mentioned I was trespassing. I was also being foolish. I was up
here before the avalanche crews, and I knew some of the areas I
wanted to ski would have dangerous overhangs. But I was also an
amateur photographer, and I wanted pictures of those overhangs
before the guns of the avalanche crews brought them down. I'm not
completely stupid, however. I'd left a note for my parents
telling them where I was going to be, and what time I planned to
return. Getting stuck up in these mountains in the summer wasn't
fun, in winter it was nasty. And I had my "find-me". It was a
transceiver skiers could wear, with the idea if they got trapped
by a falling mountain of snow, the searchers would have a good
idea of where to find the body. I'd never met anyone who had ever
needed it, but my parents and I had an agreement. If I was going
to be completely stupid, I had to be prepared.

I'd found two of the overhangs I'd wanted, and gotten some great
pictures, and was trying to get the perfect shot of the third
when I heard the boom of an avalanche control charge far to the
south. Ok, time to get out of the backcountry and pay for a lift
ticket. 

As I was making my way down a gentle slope towards my car, I sped
past a vision that almost had me sprawled on my face. With
difficulty, I got stopped and turned around. Then I took off my
goggles and rubbed my eyes. But she was still there. She was in a
yoga pose, one leg tucked under her; the other bent uncomfortably
and tucked into the crook of her elbow. And she was naked. 

Ok, I'd looked through my share of Playboys and
Penthouses. I'd even gotten an eyeful from a former girlfriend.
But this wasn't a small-breasted sixteen-year-old, or a
two-dimensional piece of paper. This was a full-breasted, pale
skinned adult female. And then I realized I was staring rudely. I
was about to turn away when an explosion rocked the snow I stood
on. 

I glanced at the overhang I'd just photographed, and noted with
dismay it was now rolling slowly towards me. Ok, I could probably
make it to safety if I skied like a madman. But then the woman
stood up, and I realized I didn't see her skis. Or her clothes.
OK. This is very bad. Avalanche approaching naked woman with no
skis. Screw this. I kicked off my skis and trudged to her,
grabbing her arm and dragging her down the hill to where I'd
noticed a small cliff wall. 

I pulled her unresisting form around the wall, and then forced
her to knees. I stripped off my coat, and wrapped it around her
shoulders, then knelt to face her, hoping the wall of snow would
flow over the cliff with enough momentum to pass us by. But I
unhooked the "find-me" from my coat just in case.

"If we survive this, I'd really like to know what the hell you
were thinking when you started your workout." I said to her. Then
the roar of the snow was all that existed until a rolling stone
smacked me in the skull, and darkness swallowed me.


"Ahh, I see you're awake. Good."

I opened my eyes and looked around. Everything I saw were shades
of white. I was inside what seemed to be a house, or maybe one of
those fairy tale cottages. I was lying on something that felt
like a bed, but the woman who spoke was stirring a large kettle
hung over an open fire not twelve feet away. I sat up carefully,
expecting a head rush and stabbing pain from the rock that hit
me, but neither appeared.

"Excuse me, but how did we get here?" I still wore my bibs and
turtleneck, but someone had taken off my boots.

"I used the snow to take us home. What is the hot drink you
mortals partake of now? The last time I met one of you, it was
hot cider." She turned to look at me, and I realized it was the
yoga artist from the mountainside. She was wearing clothing now,
but the effect was hardly what I could have called "dressed". She
wore a thin white gown that revealed much more than it concealed,
and I did try not to stare. But it wasn't easy.

I finally pulled my eyes away from her torso and looked at her
face, and realized she waited for a response. "Oh! Umm, usually
coffee, or cocoa. Sometimes tea."

She looked at me for a long moment, then turned to what seemed to
be a pantry. The packet she produced seemed terribly incongruous
with our surroundings, but she tore it open and poured it into a
large mug. Then she filled the mug from a kettle that had been
hidden by the pot she still stirred occasionally. She frowned
down into the cup, but shrugged and stirred it before handing it
to me. I took a sip, expecting the contents to be weak because
the mug was large. But the flavor was rich and delicious. "Thank
you."

"You're welcome. You may want to take off those heavy clothes,
though. You'll find it gets warm in here quite fast with the fire
going." 

I'd already noticed I was getting awfully warm, but I had another
problem. When she'd handed me the cocoa, I'd realized just how
transparent her "dress" was, and that she was a natural blonde,
if that's what you could call the pale color of her hair. And
this knowledge had had the expected effect. 

I decided to try to be discrete. "Do you, umm, have another
blanket I can use? If I take my bibs off, I need something to
cover up with."

"Oh, Loki take you!" She strode over and unhooked my bibs,
dragging them off my shoulders and off me, until I stood in my
turtleneck and tented boxers. Then she stood back and looked me
over in obvious appraisal. Naturally, the tent quickly shrank.
"Not bad. You mortals have gotten quite a bit taller, I see. Not
as muscular as you used to be, I'd say, but over all, you are a
much more attractive lot." 

Then she moved to a small table and pointed to one of the chairs.
"Sit, supper is near done."

I sat on the rough wooden chair and realized I was indeed hungry.
That raised another question. "How long was I out? My parents
might have summoned Search and Rescue!"

"No, we have lots of time before they worry. Here, eat, you'll
need the energy." She placed a large wooden bowl before me,
filled with a thick stew that smelled delicious, and a loaf of
warm bread. There were no utensils though, and I was going to ask
when she tore off a chunk of bread, used it as a scoop in the
stew, and began eating. I followed suit. It was surprisingly fun,
not nearly as messy as I would have expected, and very delicious.
She used the last of the bread to wipe the bowls clean, and then
stacked them back on the shelf before tossing the bread out the
door.

She then took my hand and tugged me to my feet. We were both
about the same height, and I was wondering what was going on,
when she kissed me. It was tentative at first, but then she
became more enthusiastic. She probed gently at my lips, and then
explored my mouth when I allowed her access. She broke the kiss
with a gasp.

"Odin, your mouth is sweet! And those teeth! So perfect! I
haven't enjoyed a kiss like that in eons!"

She showed her appreciation with another deep kiss, then pushed
me back on the bed. She straddled me and pulled my shirt over my
head, then ran her hands over my chest. "No, not as muscular, but
more defined now."


Then she stripped off my boxers and a happy smile spread upon her
lips. "Oh my, this is an improvement, though." As you would
expect, kissing her had enticed my organ to respond, and it was
about half erect now. It quickly stiffened as she began to caress
it, though. And then, to my embarrassment, I came on her hand.
"Oh well, some things apparently never change," she sighed. She
leaned over and wiped her hand on a rag by the bed. "I guess we
can go back, now."

I suddenly realized that she thought I was done. I caught her
wrist as she began to crawl off me. "No, we haven't even begun.
Lie down." She did, amusement warring with disappointment and
anger at being instructed. Now, I straddled her, and unbuttoned
her gown. As I touched her, it occurred to me: "I don't know your
name. Mine's Michael Westin, but my friends  call me Mike."

"I have been called many names, but you can call me Freya." Then
she pressed her chest against my hands and groaned softly. I'd
said before that she was full breasted. They were not only full,
they were perfect, and her nipples quickly stiffened under my
touch. I bent down and flicked them with my tongue, then took
then between my lips and suckled on her. When a drop of milk
splashed my tongue, it surprised and aroused me, and I switched
breasts and teased out another drop. All the while she moaned and
gasped at my ministrations.

I finally released her breasts, and she wrapped her hand around
my penis and pressed it against her slit. "Alright, take me, then
we'll go." Her attitude again showed she expected nothing from me
but a rutting. I was determined to show her that I wanted much
more than just a fast fuck.

I gently took her hand off my erection, and kissed my way down
her torso. I noticed her pubic hair, so pale in color was also
amazingly soft. Then Freya let out a shriek as my mouth contacted
her sex. I gripped her hips in both hands to hold her down, then
made love to her with my lips and tongue. Her nectars were true
ambrosia, and I took her through two wailing orgasms. Then I
scooted up beside her and kissed her softly. The first taste of
her juices startled her, but then she returned my kiss hungrily.

"Now," I said as I caressed her cheek, "I'd be pleased to join
with you Freya, if you so desire." 

Her response was to straddle me, take my cock in hand, and engulf
it with her pussy. And then she began to ride upon me. As she
rose up and down, I played with her breasts, caressing, teasing,
pinching them gently. But neither of us could wait long, and we
soon exploded in almost simultaneous orgasms. 

When she slowly climbed off me, she leaned down and kissed me
again. "I'll see you again, soon, Michael Westin. Very soon."
Then her hand touched my eyes, and blackness took me.


I knelt at the base of the small cliff as the last of the
avalanche slid past me. I waited a moment to be sure, then stuck
my head out to look around. It looked safe, so I quickly skied to
my car. I kicked off my skis and strapped them to the roof,
changed from my boots to my sneakers, and then drove up to
Solitude to meet some friends from school. We had a blast, and
probably enjoyed eighteen runs before we went home.

It was the following day in school, AP English. We were starting
a unit on mythology and legends. First mythos? Norse and
Scandinavian. You know, Odin, Loki, Thor. Everyone knew those
names. So why did I get rock hard when the teacher introduced one
the secondary members of the pantheon? Freya.