Deep Winter – by Sparkfur

Violence story: Deep Winter – by Sparkfur. Hello! This is my first story in a while! If you like, leave a comment below or shoot me a PM :). The wind was howling like it has lost a child, and the snow spun as though it has aspirations of one day being at the Cirque.

Violence story: Deep Winter – part 1

by Sparkfur

Genres: Fiction, Blowjob, Consensual Sex, Cum Swallowing, Male/Female, Oral Sex, Violence

The sun had only just set, but that was impossible to tell from the ominous grey-black of the sky. The white powder had formed hard ruts on the streets, dictating paths and turning cars into trains – and poorly manned at that. The temperature had long ago dropped below freezing, and yet people still could be found on the streets, wrapped in their parkas and mittens and toques. A city of people with no fear of the cold.
I couldn’t have been happier to not be one of them.

Sitting inside my small car stopped at a light, I was, if not toasty warm, at least no longer being harassed by that biting cold. The winter here is a dry one – the moisture freezes out of the air. With a mix of pity and schadenfreude, I watched the people huddled up inside a bus stop. At least this one has a shelter. Some are little more than posts with transit signs attached. I lived near one of those my whole life.

The light turns green, and I hit the clutch, and then the accelerator.

The cold, dark drive continued for another fifteen minutes before I got home. Pulling into my parking spot, I gathered my things, got out, locked the car – the key wouldn’t turn, the damn thing was frozen – and then hustle to the apartment building entrance. I forgot my gloves in the car. Fuck it. Shivering even though I was wrapped in a feather jacket, I punched my access code into the keypad. A quick click sounded, and I pulled the door open. The metal burned my fingers from the cold, and I practically ran inside. The blast of warm air hit me like a tidal wave.

“Oh thank god,” I breathed, sticking the reddened and pruned fingers in my mouth. The elevator beckoned me, but through sheer willpower I took the stairs. It’s only three flights, don’t be lazy. The third-floor hallway was the proud owner of a disgusting mauve carpet and the barest attempt at decorations along the walls. It was as though a Neanderthal had attempted to decorate the place. A Neanderthal, to clarify, with no sense of colour coordination.

The walls were a disgusting shade of green.

I stuck my key into the door handle of my apartment, 306, and then pushed the door open with my shoulder.

“Hey, Mitch, are you home?” I yelled as I put the few things I’d brought in with me down on the kitchen table. I heard a response from the living room informing me that my roommate was, in fact, present and alive. Beautiful. I grabbed a glass sitting on the counter – Jesus, we really need to do those dishes – and filled it with some water. Despite my dislike of cold in general, I filled it with cold tap water, because warm water is disgusting. Sipping at the source of all life, I made my way into the living room.

Mitch was sitting on the couch playing Overwatch on his laptop. He gave me an acknowledging jerk of his head, but otherwise was focused on gameplay. I grinned. Normally I’d load up my own copy and join him, but I had more important things to do. I slipped into my bedroom, closed the door, and lay down. I turned off the lights, and then loaded up Netflix on my laptop. A new season of my favourite show had just been released.

“Baby, it’s time for you and me time,” I whispered to my laptop, and then laughed at my own absurdity.

A couple of hours passed, and then I happened to see the clock on my computer. 12:13. I had to get up for class the next day, so I closed the laptop, shut my eyes, and let sleep slowly take me.

– *-*-*-

Pop.

“Oh fuck man, oh fuck, you shot him!”

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll–”

I sat up straight in bed, in a cold sweat. Yelling was coming from outside of our apartment, down on the street level. Creeping over to the window and gently pulling the blinds apart, I identified the source of the sounds. Three men were out on the street under a streetlamp, dressed in black. One was lying on the ground, and the snow around him was a deep crimson red.

“Oh Jesus,” I whispered under my breath, and groped around in the dark for my cell phone. Luckily I found it easily, because I really didn’t want to turn on the light. I hurriedly called 911, and described the situation outside. I gave them my contact information for further inquiries. Suddenly a stroke of genius struck, or so I thought. The camera in my phone began to record, and I peered down at the two men – it looked like the one with the gun was threatening the other.

I need their faces.

Forget genius. This was idiotic. Leaving my phone on the windowsill recording them, I crept over to the light switch, and then started repeatedly flicking it on or off. This lasted about three seconds, and then I crawled back. The men were staring up at the window with confusion on their faces. Suddenly in the distance sirens wailed, and a look of fear crossed their faces. They bolted in different directions, leaving the third man to lie in the snow under the streetlamp. The snow looked significantly redder now.

A braver person than me would have gone out and checked on the person bleeding to death below me. I instead checked the video. Bingo. Their faces in clear view. The idiots hadn’t even worn scarves. Suddenly the sirens were very loud, and red and blue flashed through my window. I looked out the window, and saw a paramedic team loading the shot man into an ambulance. They didn’t seem too hurried, though, so I presumed he was probably already dead.

Suddenly the buzzer rang in the kitchen, near the door. I stumbled out of the room, and answered.
“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Mr. Oliver Francis speaking?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Mr. Francis, my name is Officer Simmons. I was wondering if my partner and I could come in and speak with you. We understand that you were the one to call police.”

“Yes, of course,” I replied, and buzzed them in. A few minutes later, two cops in uniform were sitting at my kitchen table. They asked me the usual questions – what did I see, could I get a good look at the assailant, did I know them. Informing the police of my video, I returned to my room, got the phone, and showed it to them. They looked at one another, and then got me to transfer a copy over to them. Doing this quickly via Bluetooth, they then bid me goodnight. Looking at the clock, I saw that it was 5:00 am.

“Oliver? Who was that at the door?” a voice said behind me, and I turned to see Mitch standing in his doorway looking like someone had just dragged him out of hell backwards.

“Police. A guy got shot in the back alley, and I called 911.”

“And you didn’t wake me up?” Mitch replied, a note of hurt in his voice.

“Honestly,” I replied, sighing, “I’m shocked they didn’t wake you up.”

“I sleep like a bear,” Mitch laughed, and I joined him. I filled him in on the full story, but the clock drew my gaze back in. Grimacing, I said, “I’m gonna be a fuckin’ wreck in class tomorrow. It’s literally in three and a half hours.”

“Dude. Forget Quantum Mechanics. You literally just saw some guy get shot dead. I think you should just skip.”

“But—“

“No buts. We’re gonna hang out tomorrow and do some cool shit. Forget class.”

“What about yours?” I responded drily. “You gonna skip those too?”

“Oliver, let’s be real here. What the fuck am I ever going to need “Art and Culture of the Roman Empire” for? I’d rather get a couple of beers with you, my man.”

I let a smile cross my face, and nodded. Mitch went back to bed, and after a look out the window, I passed out as well. The red snow was already buried by the new fresh white falling gently from the sky, hiding the scene that had played out only a short time before. Yet the blood was still buried beneath the snow. It would prove an unpleasant surprise for some snowplow driver.

The next day passed quickly. Mitch and I hit up a couple of attractions around town, mostly in the Exchange and Osborne Village. Ironically, given the cold nature of what had happened the night before, the temperature had risen significantly, and it was almost pleasant to walk in the now lightly falling snow. As the day turned to night once more, we went to a popular bar in the Village. The lights were dim, and on some other day I might have been keeping an eye out for some girls to flirt with, but tonight I was just hanging out with my roommate. Honestly, I didn’t feel like I had the energy.

As Mitch and I each got a Keith’s IPA from the bar, a small cute Filipina girl slid up to the bar next to me. She ordered one of the specialty drinks (some special combo for the hockey game that night, which I was definitely not paying attention to), and then turned to look at me. When she spoke, there was almost a musical note to it.

“You boys look roughed up. Mind me asking what happened?”

I’m always down to talk to a pretty girl. Mitch, on the other hand, was a lot more interested in our admittedly pretty ripped bartender. Those tattoo sleeves looked pretty sick. I made eye contact with the girl and said, “I had a pretty hard night last night. Some guy got shot outside our apartment at like 5 am. Pretty goddamn traumatizing.”

“Holy shit,” she said, covering her mouth. “Is he alright?”

“I don’t think so,” I said forlornly. “I’m like… 99% sure he died.”

“Wow, that’s awful, I’m so sorry to hear that,” the girl said, and to my surprise it sounded like she really meant it. I gave her a small smile, took a sip from my beer, and then said, “It’s ok, I didn’t know the guy at all. Still kind of fucks you up though, y’know?”

She nodded, and I smiled. Then a thought occurred to me, and I remarked, “You know, I don’t think you mentioned you name.”

“I didn’t. My name is Jane.”

“Oliver. Nice to meet you Jane,” I responded, and we both smiled. We chatted for the next half hour or so. Mitch was in a surprisingly deep conversation with the bartender about the situation in Syria, which is pretty much the opposite of what you expect to hear at a bar. I seriously resisted making fun of him for being a geek, though frankly I’m not much better. I’m a physics major for christ’s sake.
I bought my new friend a drink, and eventually the conversation veered towards our love lives. Mine had been empty for about six months after a girlfriend cheated on me. She confided in me that it had been about a year for her. We were both a little tipsy, but not really inebriated at all. To be honest, the conversation was interesting me so much I was forgetting to drink most of the time.

It’s hard to drink things away when you don’t drink.

Eventually the bartender informed us that they were closing up shop. As we piled out onto the street, I noticed that Mitch had something written on his arm. I grabbed his wrist and looked at it, and exclaimed, “Dude, what is this?”

He grinned at me. “Man, the bartender gave me his number,”

I laughed and high-fived him, and we walked down towards the bus stop. The transit app informed me that the bus wouldn’t be by for another twenty minutes, so we swung into the nearby Subway. After ordering some post-midnight snacks, the three of us sat down at a table.

“Hey Jane, where are you planning on going after this?” I asked, swallowing a piece of my sub. “Would you want to come back to our place? We were thinking of hanging out some more.”

She smiled at me, but then a thought seemed to cross her mind, and the smile slipped a bit.

“I’d definitely like to keep hanging out, but isn’t your area… kind of sketchy? I mean a guy literally got shot dead outside your apartment.”

“Fair enough,” I conceded. “Anywhere you’d like to go?”

“We could head back to my place, if you guys are down? I just live further up River, it’s like a five minute walk.”

To clarify, River is the name of the street upon which the Subway was located. Fittingly, it runs parallel to the main river in the city. Guess that’s why it’s called that. We agreed that this was a good idea. Mitch was significantly drunker than either Jane or myself, but Mitch is hilarious when drunk. The whole way there he was cracking off-colour jokes or making up little songs that got a laugh out of both of us.

We reached Jane’s apartment building about ten minutes later. She pulled off her mittens – they were those gloves they sold for the Olympics, the red ones with the maple leaves – and punched in her code. We took the elevator – Lazy! – up to the sixth floor, and then into her apartment, 603. The main thing that struck me right away was the inversion of our own room number. Hey, I mentioned my geek status earlier. The other thing that struck me was that it was really clean.

We sat down at the table, and Jane grabbed some snacks. We talked and laughed for another hour or so, largely making fun of Mitch for being so drunk. He took it like a good sport, but I could tell he was getting tired. Alcohol tends to have that effect. He yawned, then informed us he was going to head out. His phone had died, so I called him a cab. We walked him down to it, and I double checked he had his keys and shit – friends don’t let friends get locked out in the cold. Seriously, that shit kills.

Jane and I walked back up to her apartment, talking amicably. We took the elevator again, and when we got back up, Jane gave me a look I couldn’t quite read, and then asked what I wanted to do.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” I asked, having spotted a relatively large television in her living room with a nice couch. A quick look of disappointment crossed her face, but she quickly hid it, and agreed. We sat down next to each other on the couch, a little bit closer than was strictly necessary. She turned on Netflix, and after bartering a bit on what movie to watch, we decided to watch Age of Ultron. She suggested turning the lights off so as to watch the movie better, and I quickly agreed.

As the movie started, we were sitting next to each other, my thigh gently pressed up against her. It felt like an electric current was running through my leg – I was distinctly aware of where her body was, and if it was in contact with me. As the action progressed, Jane suddenly turned to me, and asked, “Is it ok if I lean on you?”

“Yeah, for sure!” I replied, smiling, and after a quick smile back, she lay her head on my shoulder. I decided to take a risk and put my arm around her. She snuggled in closer instead of freaking out so I figured I was probably ok. I was now having my attention pulled in two directions. On one hand I loved this movie. On the other hand, this gorgeous girl was cuddled up with me.

Despite my best intentions, I could feel a tightening in my crotch, as my pants suddenly had to work a little bit harder to keep things in check. Suddenly the lights being off seemed like a blessing. I started to gently stroke her hair, and I could feel her cheeks contort into a smile. She scooched closer, and her head was essentially level with mine now.

Just do it, damn it.

Fear and desire briefly battled, as they always do, and desire won. I gently kissed the top of Jane’s head, and she slowly looked up at me. I leaned into her and our lips met. The kiss was soft at first, as if we both believed it to not be real, as though it might vanish. Then slowly the kiss began to harden, and I slipped my hand into her hair and held the back of her head. I turned my body, and she wrapped her arms around my neck.

We lay down together on the couch, me on top, and continued kissing. My hands began to run up and down her shoulders, and up and down her upper back. Her hands in turn were exploring my body – one hand feeling up my chest, while the other was on the back of my neck, pulling my in. Jane suddenly wrapped her legs around me, her feet resting on my lower back.

I suddenly found that my erection was pressing against her. I hesitated, then decided it was definitely on purpose, and pressed against her. I start kissing my way away from her mouth, and start kissing along her jawline. Working my way down her neck, I stopped and tested to see where she was most sensitive. Any time she let out a little gasp, I knew I had found a good spot. I slid my hands down her sides, and then slowly felt my way up her stomach. My fingertips stopped just short of her breasts, and I moved up to her ear, and whispered, “are you ok with this?”

“Yes,” she breathed back, and my hands slid onto her breasts. I returned to kissing her neck as my hands kneaded and felt her breasts, providing just enough pressure. Suddenly I felt her hand slide under my shirt and up my stomach. It felt really nice, and I let out a little hiss of pleasure. Suddenly Jane sat up, pushing me with her, and pulled me into a deep kiss.

She tugged at the bottom of my shirt, and I helped her take it off. I then pulled hers off for her as well. My hands ran down her spine as we kissed, my fingers playing with her bra strap. I unclipped it, and Jane pulled it off. Her breasts were now exposed to the world – I took little time in rectifying that. Taking a tit in one hand, I kissed the nipple on the other, and gently flicked and played with it using my tongue. A moan snuck out, and she grabbed the back of my head.

“Holy shit, Oliver, that feels really good,” she whispered to me, and I looked up from playing with her for a second to give her a roguish smile. Jane suddenly pushed me back so I was on my back and she was on top of me, with her breasts in my face. Judging from the fact that they fit so nicely in my hands, they were probably a C-cup. I took her nipple back into my mouth, and cupped both of her boobs with my hands, giving them a massage as I pleasured her. I could feel Jane shift her weight so that she wasn’t putting it all on her hands, and then I felt fingers grazing my lower stomach. I shivered slightly, and it wasn’t because of the cold outside.

Illuminated by the light from the TV – there was a fight scene, I think – Jane gave me a look that very clearly had a question in it. I nodded and smiled, and she smiled back. She then started to slowly rub her hand over my crotch. It felt amazing and I let myself relax. She crawled back up to kiss me, and then reaching down to grab my cock, which was rock hard by this point, whispered in my ear.
“Looks like I’ve got my own Iron Man.”

“I’d call you Black Widow, but I don’t want you killing and eating me after this is over,” I joked, and I suddenly hoped that this was going to last longer than just a hook up when she snorted with laughter. Girls who laugh at my nerdy jokes? Check!

Jane continued to fondle my dick through my jeans, and then told me to sit up. I did as she asked, and she briefly straddled me, before sliding down to sit on the floor between my legs on her knees. Looking up at me with a devilish look on her face, she unzipped my pants, and pulled them off, leaving just my boxers. She started to rub my dick through the boxers, and then pulled them off, allowing my boy out to play.

I’m only slightly above average with cock length, only about six inches. Despite that, it was incredibly hard and erect, quivering there as I sat there as Jane examined my cock. She slowly wrapped one hand around it, and began to stroke it up and down. Her hands were incredibly soft, and it felt amazing. I was making direct eye contact with her the whole time, and she kept stroking as she leaned in and kissed the head of my dick, still looking directly at me. Then she cast her eyes downward, and wrapped her lips around the head of my cock. A moan escaped from my mouth.

Jane started moving faster, and taking more of my cock in her mouth. Her hand was still stroking away as she took about three inches in. She sped up the pace, and then let go with her hand and just started bobbing away on my cock. I threaded my hand through her hair and helped her with the downstrokes. Suddenly I felt a hand cupping my balls, and that drove me close to the edge. I gasped, and whispered, “Holy fuck Jane, I’m about to cum.”

To my surprise she didn’t stop, but just kept going harder. Her head was moving really fast now, and I almost felt like the semen was being coaxed out of me. The sensation of orgasm built until with a gasp I started shooting strings of semen into Jane’s mouth. I could feel her swallowing, and she kept sucking, though she wasn’t bobbing her head anymore. I collapsed back onto the couch, my breath ragged.

“Holy shit Jane. That was an amazing blowjob.”

She gave me a huge grin, which I made out with the light from the TV.

“Thanks. I couldn’t have you cumming all over my carpet, could I?” she joked, and I laughed. Then I looked her up and down and said, “Now, I think I owe you something in return.”
Looking over her, she was really attractive. Short, only about five foot even, she had this dark hair that tumbled down to about mid-shoulder. Her skin was this beautiful brown, and her smile was like a light in the dark. Seeing that grin, I could honestly die happy right there.

I pulled her into me, kissing her deeply. There was a bit of a salty taste, but I didn’t care. What kind of douche won’t kiss his girl after a blowjob like that? Uh… I mean, a girl. A girl. Not my girl.
I pulled her up to me, and then we stood up. My cock had now gone soft, but Jane had this expectant, almost hungry look on her face. I kissed her again, and then slowly ran my hands down her back until they rested above her ass. I then buried my lips on her neck, making her moan, and then slid my hands down under her shorts to cup her ass.

I pulled her body in close to me, then raised my right hand a little and worked it around to the front of her pants – the hand was high enough to not be over her pussy, but low enough to still be under the fabric. I gave her a look, and she whispered, “Go ahead” in my ear.

I undid the button on Jane’s pants, unzipped them, and then pulled them down. She was now standing just in a pair of panties. There was a cartoon pirate on the front that held a sign the read, “Treasure!” with an arrow point down. The effect was aided by the fact that the whole area under the pirate was drenched. I laughed, and once she realized what I was laughing at she did as well.

I sat her down on the couch and spread her legs. I kissed around her inner thighs, and then kissed her pussy through the panties. Jane gave a shiver of pleasure, and I could feel her fingers intertwine through my hair. I slipped my fingers through the top of her panties, and then pulled them down. Her pussy was clean-shaven, and was dripping wet.

I reached out and started gently rubbing her clit, then slid a single finger into her slit. She gasped, and I felt her instinctually pressed closer to my finger. I smiled, and then slid a second finger in. I leaned forward and started licking at her clit, and began rubbing my fingers in small circles on her G-spot.

Slowly I picked up the pace. Jane had started panting, and as I continued to work her tight pussy, she began to knead her breasts. At one point I hit everything at the right angle, and she let out a little shriek. As the pace got faster and faster her panting got faster. Her grip on my hair got tighter, to the point where it actually hurt a bit. I was licking and fingering for dear life, and then Jane started to thrash as an orgasm racked her body.

“Oh, FUCK, Oliver, this feels AMAZING! Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fu—“

At this point her words devolved into a sort of animalistic wail, and I just kept on going. Slowly, very slowly, Jane came down from her orgasm, and collapsed back onto the couch. Her juices were coating my face and my fingers. I licked my fingers clean, and then wiped the juices off my face. I sat next to her on the couch, both completely naked. She seemed dazed, but reacted to me sitting down my cuddling up to me.

“Holy fuck, Oliver, where did you learn to eat pussy like that? That was fucking amazing.”

I smiled a little bit. The truth was, I’d learned through practice, but that’s not something someone generally wants to hear.

“Secrets,” I teased her, tapping her nose. She fake scowled, then laughed. I was semi-hard again, but by this point it was pretty damn late (or early?), and I hadn’t slept well the night before for obvious reasons. We settled down to watch what was left of the movie. We got dressed and cuddled on the couch for a bit, and then exhaustion took over and we both passed out.

*-*-*-*-*

I woke up at about nine in the morning, and had a brief moment of panic before I remembered where I was. Jane was sleeping next to me, and I smiled down at her. She was just as gorgeous in the light of day. I got up and checked my phone, and I had a message from the Mitch. It just said, “You need to get home. Now.”

Confused, I grabbed my stuff, and was about to head out when I realized that I had almost forgotten something immensely important.

Grabbing a piece of paper, I wrote down a note apologizing for being gone the morning after, begging the excuse of an emergency (which seemed to be true given Mitch’s tone… as far as a text can have a tone), and then giving her my number if she ever wanted to go on an actual date with me. I decided it was best to just leave this ball in her court. I could definitely feel myself feeling some sort of emotional connection with this girl, but I didn’t know if she felt the same, or if this was just a one night stand for her.

Heading downstairs (using the stairs, goddammit), I decided not to bus home, but to call a cab. I arrived at my own building a quarter of an hour later, and let myself in. I made my way up to the third floor, and then froze dead in my tracks. I knew now why Mitch had called me back.

Someone had taken a knife and had scratched a message into our wooden door.

“YOU GOT OUR BOY NABBED. YOU’RE DEAD.”

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