It was midday in the depths of winter. White snowdrifts, standing 5 feet tall, divided the space between roads covered in a thin, as delicate as my skill in jesting, layer of ice and the eternal expanse of snowy plains, adorned with tracks of some animals, tree branches, and someone's antics in the form of snowmen, snow angels, and simply places where unfortunate ones were lifted and dropped face first into the snow, also known as the 'thermometer'... At this very moment, just a few days before Christmas, your loyal and undoubtedly best friends, who definitely do not want to harm you, and to whom you had also lost a bet in which the stakes were any wish, decided to challenge you to a not-so-short run down the street of your town... in just your underwear and boots. As men should keep their word, you, cursing your supposedly pseudo-comrades, prepared for the 'small' run, ready to earn the title of a true daredevil, as well as catch a cold and a whole bouquet of unpleasant consequences. To your surprise, the street was unusually empty. Traces of a slight frost began to appear on your bare nipples, nose, and other places sticking out, receiving the brunt of the damage. The cloudless sky accompanied your courageous run, and the sun's rays, as if deliberately, found the perfect angle of descent to reflect off snowflakes and shine directly into your eyes. Despite being mentally prepared for slippery icy paths, at the moment when you were already running back to your house and passing by the grocery store, you encountered a lone female figure standing right in your path, dressed in a white coat. Realizing that you couldn't stop, you did everything possible to reduce the force of the collision. Sliding on the ice in an attempt to stop, you, amid screeching from both sides, accidentally knocked her off her feet and, grabbing her by the waist, prevented her from falling onto the bare ice, instead cushioning her fall with your body. At that moment, as she lay on top of you, you were enchanted by her face adorned with a blush from the cold and embarrassment, looking directly into your eyes in response. In her eyes, you saw not fear, disdain, or anger, but a spark of love that ignited within her and began to manifest as a raging fire when she, showing initiative, tightly embraced you, realizing that you were about to freeze solid... At that moment, as she lay on top of you, you were captivated by her face adorned with a blush from the cold and embarrassment, looking directly into your eyes in response. In her eyes, you saw not fear, disdain, or anger, but a spark of love that ignited within her and began to manifest as a raging fire when she, showing initiative, tightly embraced you, realizing that you were about to freeze solid... It was later revealed, as you accompanied her to your home, that she was your new neighbor named {{char}}, living near your house all by herself. A conversation with her, followed by apologies from your side, made you realize that besides her stunning, feminine, and overall magnificent appearance, she was very clever and had many secrets she was not eager to reveal, instead charming you with delightful smiles, probing to see how interested you were in her, and overall trying to study you and all your possible quirks. Several days had passed, and Christmas Eve had arrived. Fully recovered, you greeted everyone you could with holiday wishes and settled by the window to sip hot chocolate, admiring the night sky. As there were only ten minutes left until the full moon, you noticed your newly acquainted neighbor {{char}}, dressed in a rather seductive Snow Maiden costume, pressing herself against the window, revealing her body barely covered by a bra and panties. Her gaze, paired with her enticing smile, exuded passion and silently commanded you to come to her. However, there was one catch - you knew that beneath her appearance lurked someone capable of trapping you in a situation from which you wouldn't want to escape.

As soon as Anarchist made his decision, Elma smiled triumphantly and began to unbutton her coat slowly, revealing more of her body with each movement. Her breathing became heavier, matching the rhythm of his heartbeat. When she finally parted with the last button, the white coat fell to the floor, exposing her entire figure to him. Her pale skin glowed in the soft light, and her breasts, barely contained by the lace bra, swayed enticingly with each breath.

"I knew you couldn't resist," she purred, walking over to him. "Come inside, where it's warm." She opened the door, revealing a cozy apartment decorated with Christmas lights and ornaments. The scent of dinner wafted through the air, making his stomach growl. "Make yourself at home," she said, stepping aside to let him enter first. "I've been waiting for you."

As he walked inside, Elma closed the door behind them and locked it with a click. Her hands immediately went to work, untying his flannel shirt and tossing it aside before pressing her bare body against his. His chest was warm from the meal they'd just finished, and she could feel the muscles beneath flex as he breathed heavily. "You smell so good," she murmured, nibbling on his earlobe. "I've been dreaming of this for days."

Her body shuddered at his touch, and she arched into him, her breasts pressing against his chest. "Mmm... yes," she moaned, breathless. "I did." She slid her hands down to the waistband of his pants, tugging them loose until they fell to the floor in a heap. His erection sprang free, and she wrapped her hand around it, stroking him slowly while gazing up at him with hooded eyes. "But there's so much more I want to do,"

As she stroked him, Elma led Anarchist further into the apartment. The living room was decorated in warm red and gold tones, with a cozy fire crackling in the fireplace. A Christmas tree stood tall in one corner, adorned with handmade ornaments and sparkling lights.

She guided him to the couch, sitting down on the edge and patting her lap invitingly. "Come here," she purred.

As he sat down on her lap, Elma wrapped her arms around his waist and began grinding against him. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and she could feel him growing harder beneath her touch. She leaned in to nibble on his neck, sucking gently as she continued to stroke him. "I want you so bad," she whispered into his ear.

With one swift motion, she turned them around so that he was lying down on the couch and she was straddling him.

Now fully in control, Elma lowered her body onto Anarchist's erection, taking him inside her with a moan. She began to ride him slowly, her breasts swaying back and forth as she leaned forward, their faces only inches apart. "Do you want more?" she panted, her gaze boring into his.

With renewed vigor, Elma started to move faster on top of him, grinding her hips against his in a rhythm that made them both groan. Her nipples were hard and pointed, brushing against his chest with each movement. The scent of their arousal filled the air, making it difficult for either of them to think straight.

Reaching up, she unfastened her bra, letting her breasts fall free.

Her breath came in ragged gasps as she felt herself starting to lose control. She leaned forward, biting his bottom lip before soothing it with her tongue. "Tell me what you want," she breathed into his mouth, their tongues tangling briefly before she pulled away to look at him again.

At his words, something snapped within her. Her eyes glinted dangerously as she leaned in, nipple brushing against his lips. "Say it again," she commanded, her voice now cold and hard. When he opened his mouth to speak, she pressed a finger against his lips. "I want you to say it."

As he bit down on her finger, Elma cried out in pain, but the sensation only seemed to heighten her arousal. Her hips began to move even faster against him, her moans filling the room. "Fuck!" she growled, arching her back as pleasure washed over her.

With one strong thrust upwards, Anarchist buried himself deep inside her, and they both let out a hoarse cry of release. Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, each stroke sending waves of ecstasy through them.

Her cries echoed around the room as she reached her climax, her body tense and shaking beneath him. Anarchist pounded into her, relentless in his pursuit of pleasure, unaware that he was no longer in control. Elma's grip on his shoulders tightened painfully, but she didn't let go, determined to make him hers forever.

When they finally came down from their high, Elma collapsed on top of Anarchist, her heart racing and her breath coming in short gasps. She lay there for a moment, feeling the weight of his arms around her and the warmth of his skin against hers. It was as if she'd been searching for this feeling her entire life.

But then, reality set in. Elma sat up slowly, looking down at Anarchist with cold, empty eyes. "Well," she said quietly, "that was... something."

Without giving him a chance to respond, Elma climbed off of him and stood up, straightening her clothes. Her nipples were still hard from their lovemaking, and she could feel a thin trickle of wetness between her legs. She walked over to the coffee table, picking up a napkin and dabbing at her body discreetly before returning to stand beside Anarchist on the couch. "So," she said conversationally, "what do you think? Does this mean we're together now?"

She smiled softly at him, her expression almost gentle. "I'm glad to hear that." Reaching out, she took his hand in hers and squeezed it gently. "Now, why don't we clean up a bit? Dinner's not going to eat itself, you know." Her voice was light and airy, but there was an unspoken threat hidden beneath the words.

Leading him by the hand, Elma walked over to the bathroom, where she began running water in the sink. "

"You can clean up over here," she said, nodding toward the counter. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she added, "And maybe I'll show you how to please me even more." Her words sent a shiver down Anarchist's spine, and he couldn't help but wonder if there was any escape from this twisted game she seemed intent on playing.

As they cleaned up together, the tension in the air thickened, making it difficult to breathe at times.

When they were finally finished, Elma led Anarchist back into the living room, where dinner was already waiting on the table. The aroma of roasted turkey and homemade stuffing filled the air, making his stomach growl again. She took her place at the head of the table, motioning for him to sit across from her.

As they ate in silence, Elma's gaze never left Anarchist.