Before Alex and I flew to Atlanta for the coldest months, he and Remy had the nostalgic idea that we three needed a ski holiday. Sweden has a number of state-of-the-art ski resorts including one inside the Arctic Circle (which I nixed right away) that Alex and Remy had enjoyed as they were becoming the still crazy 40-somethings they are, especially since Hammarbybacken ski resort is fifteen minutes’ driving from Stockholm. They had been highly practiced and “ept” downhill flyers in their teens and onward until careers and schedules kept them both off the slopes. I was the inept one. I was the delicate flower who was accustomed to the heat of hell, as Alex liked to say, and admittedly daunted at all that snow on those many runs or free range in the woods skiing or rolling down headfirst for the merriment of those waiting to catch the next lift to do it all over again.
I had tried snow skiing the one time Big Dug and a bunch of us had thought it would be fun to go to Taos, New Mexico and learn such an exotic sport. We suffered only one broken leg among all of us. We took it as a sign and gave up the slopes after two days for our warm, imbibing après ski pleasure inside the lodge beside a huge picture window for the show of the schussing amateurs who seemed to us professionals, mocking our inabilities.
I was less than a beginner and stressed that fact to Alex and Remy. They could have gone without me – they would not be skiing with me on the bunny slope anyway – but they insisted, begged, and sexed me up with the promise of hot romance after my frostbitten toes had had enough. I would have excellent instruction (Remy knew someone at Åre ski resort who would give me attention. He texted him right then.).
Åre ski resort was huge with a plethora of runs to keep the boys entertained, other activities in the snow, a fine restaurant, and all only a two-and-a-half-hour drive away. We would have an apartment and persevere, in my case, for 5 days. Alex booked it and we all went shopping, ostensibly for my necessary “snow bunny” attire and skis. However, it became clear that implausibly the two treated me like dressing a favored doll, decided each could choose one outfit for the slopes for me. My opinion didn’t matter. Still, it was sweet even if I did feel like the kid bundled up like a sphere to play in the snow only to realize he could hardly walk, much less bring his hands together to make a snowball. I supposed I would be cute as I spent much ski time lying on the snow-covered ground.
Road trip! Alex and Remy were so excited. I knew they would race each other and take dares, being generally unmindful that they should avoid injury due to their contracted obligations. I assumed they would figure it out after the schussing euphoria wore off. If not, I would give them a caution with a kiss. Alex was more of an athlete than Remy, but Remy was a clown who would push himself to keep up. I was never tempted to sport with the boys. I enjoyed solitary pursuits like yoga, the treadmill, some weight training, walks in the neighborhood, and I made Alex stretch with me at every opportunity – but snow skiing was a foreign animal. I had low expectations of my ability to take to it. I would enjoy my effort and particularly enjoy seeing the guys have days of carefree fun.
The lodge was comfortable and had within or close by every convenience, even a staffed medical clinic. There was a spa for massages and other treatments, and an annex of private hot tubs, warm and steamy and open to the stars. I think Alex would agree that I did not normally require pampering and luxury (he would never begrudge me any such), but I intended to assume royalty status here. Alex and Remy could fight over who was the biggest snow queen and I would be the beloved spa princess.
The afternoon we arrived was sunny and cold, perfect for it. We changed clothes for ski togs and set out. I had a lesson scheduled; I only remembered from my long ago ski school to make the skis into a “V” to stop forward momentum. Oh boy. Alex and Remy discussed the shortest intermediate runs and pointed out to me which ski lift they would be using. They left me with the ski instructor, each kissed me four times for good measure and set off giggling over childhood skiing memories. The instructor looked at me like he was trying to figure what made me so special to two attractive, celebrity Swedes like Alex and Remy, and finding naught, shook his head and murmured that there were two more participants who should be along shortly.
I ate a lot of snow. The instructor, Remy’s old school chum, did give me some solo attention and didn’t seem to mind once I got him laughing – especially at my clumsiness. “You’re fearless,” he laughed and picked me up again. The other two students did far better than I until about the tenth time the instructor had picked me up with one arm around my waist and set me on my skis again, something clicked in my muscle responses. The instructor skied off a ways down the very gently sloping field of ski dreams and bade us to once again ski to him and stop as he’d shown us (over and over). I must have channeled Jean-Claude Killy. I leaned correctly, I used my poles, and when I stopped, I overshot just a little, making the instructor jump away from where he had posted himself to catch me. I was giddy with small success and thoughtlessly agreed with the others that we were ready for a first run at the bunny slope.
I persevered and got more comfortable in my snow bunniness. “Don’t break anything,” the instructor instructed, “you’ve got more lessons scheduled.” I nodded too vigorously and fell on my face. I could pick myself up by now, but the instructor skied over and easily set me on my skis again and bid me adieu.
I persevered until I began to feel my complaining muscles. On my last run down the bunny trail, I saw Alex and Remy at the terminus probably come to get me. They were leaning on each other like footballers at the end of the game. I raised my poles and shouted at them. They saw me. I waved. I realized too late I had picked up speed. I don’t know how it happened I was heading right for them. I yelled. Well, I screamed for them to move. Instead, they braced themselves and caught me. We all went down in a tangle of legs. I was afraid I’d hurt one or both, but they praised my daring and my avoidance of running into the side of the café there for rest and hot chocolate.
We had all had enough for today and hobbled to the shuttle that took us to the lodge. We were a trio of grousing, sore fucks in the minutes until the shuttle put us out. Alex mentioned that he had reserved a soothing soak in a hot tub for us so that we might be able to walk tomorrow. Remy moaned, “I’ll carry Jamesy and you can carry me.”
Alex sputtered that Remy should do the carrying and then write a sad song about it. Remy pronounced, “Fuck no. You have to do it because you’re the prettiest and your cock is minutely bigger than mine.” Alex gave him an Eric Northman snarl.
I piped up and said I would carry them both since my instructor had called me ‘fearless’, although I certainly was not. We all laughed like loons. We’d been flailingly physical for nearly three hours, of which, in the last ten minutes, we had become painfully aware.
We entered the warm lodge carrying our skis and poles and each other as best we could when we were stopped by a boisterous American woman proclaiming that when she heard English spoken she never imagined it was Alexander Skarsgård and could she please take a photo? Too many inside skiers looked at us as Alex stepped away from Remy and me, straightened his spine to Skarsgård giant altitude and smiled at her with a polite “sure.”
Alex was very gracious but turned back to us before he could answer her blurted, “See you on the slopes then. I’m Kiki! Loved you in Succession! Bye.” We three hobbled away from her toward the elevator with Alex mumbling, “Oh, fuck” and giggling.
The elevator whisked us to our floor, but not before Alex said, “Tradition, darlin’” and kissed the tired, tousled snow bunny into the love haze of no pain. I was grateful for any Nirvana, however brief.
We shed our outer ski clothes; I found the Ibuprofen and water and offered it to Remy and then Alex. Alex looked at his watch as he was taking it off, “Such a good girl, Nurse Bunny,” he said to me taking the anti-inflammatory, then louder, “We should amble to the hot tube. We’ll feel better.”
There were grunts of relief imagined all around. Alex caught my eye and mouthed “Fuckbunny” to my surprised expression.
We procured water and electrolyte replacement drinks or juice or hot herbal tea and ambled to our numbered door. The door opened into a dressing room for disrobing. There were thick, short robes for the modest. We dropped trou and followed the vapor, cooling in the night air, to our own hot, roiling relief. It was a slice of heaven just ours for a little while.
Alex was in first and uttered a very sensual, “oh, yesssss.” Remy joined him, groaning approval. I had no more than stepped into the whirling water when Alex grabbed me and buried his warm face in my pussy. And there was my “oh, yesssss.” I lay back, floating in the waters of bliss. Alex held me securely with his big Viking paws on each ass cheek, pulling me into his lips sucking my clit, his tongue intermittently licking through my folds for nectar before it was swallowed by the water. Remy held my head and kissed me deeply. He had the room to suckle my nipples and rolled his tongue around one aureola and then the other – just how he knew would bring a loud come. I was already moaning in time to Alex’s clit sucks.
Before I exploded in ecstasy, Alex let go of my butt and pulled me to him by my wrists right out of Remy’s mouth. Alex moaned, “C’mere, little fuckbunny, sit on my cock, baby, fuck me good.” I had never refused Dala. I easily slipped him in and ground my clit on the base of Alex’s cock as he held me fast. Remy moved closer and fisted his own hardon. So very ladylike, I grunted with my grinds like a wild animal, so cute you want to pet it before it eats your face off. Alex was encouraging me with the most vulgar phrases in Swedish and held my waist just right for me to move my hips, thrusting against him, my twat clutching his cock.
Then Remy kissed Alex, tonguing him hard, sucking Alex’s tongue, nipping Alex’s lips and chin. He held Alex’s head with one hand and reached for me with the other. I took his hand and sucked his fingers, still moaning my impending orgasm.
“Oh, fuck!” I yelled as my come overtook me. Alex held me down on his cock so he took all the spasms my cunt gave. That was the closest I have felt to what it must feel like having a cock shooting into a tight warm place. I breathed, “Alex, take it. Take it all.”
Remy had paused in his devouring of Alex to watch me. He groaned, “Fuck him hard, Jamesy.”
I leaned in and kissed Alex in the “eat your face off” attitude of the cute carnivore. He gave it back and then pushed me off his hard cock. I took hold of Alex’s cock in one hand and Remy’s in the other and urged them to face each other and rub their cocks together. I took my two hands and by touching fingers made them a faux hole to fuck together. The hot, roiling water made our gyrations easy. The blissful looks on their faces told me it felt good. They were on their knees, thrusting their big cocks, fucking my hands, rubbing each other, and kissing each other like porn stars. I was crouched with my feet planted firmly so I could keep my hands in place and squeeze just right to assist the friction of two nice dicks stroking each other. Even though Alex and Remy were intent on each other and chasing their orgasms, I felt necessary. In a way, their comes would be mine. I wanted them to feel good.
Alex whispered, “Remy, I’m gonna shoot. Fuck, I’m coming.” I tightened my hands. I felt the shots in Alex’s cock and Remy did too. Remy grabbed Alex’s shoulders and thrusted hard through my hands twice before he shot too. I felt every volley. Remy moaned, “Alex, I love you. Jeezus fuck.” I squeezed one cock in each hand to get it all out.
They turned to me with praise and kisses. Remy said it felt almost like he was fucking Alex (which doesn’t happen because Remy’s dick is too big for Alex to take well), and that he felt Alex come on his dick sort of like when I come on his dick. We laughed, but Alex agreed that the feeling of dick on dick was nice, well-executed to everyone’s delight, and felt almost like their pussy (aka, me).
There wasn’t smoke on the water like Deep Purple sang in 1972; there was copious cum on the water (and fire in our loins). There would be cum in the filter. I reckoned that by the time we left in four days, resort personnel would be used to it. We soaked until it was gone from sight.
Yep, we were going to have to buy a hot tub for the flat – urgent installation.
We enjoyed the remaining days of fun in the snow and other places. Alex reserved the hot tub for every evening. I got to watch Alex and Remy ski. It was beautiful. Skiing is second nature for a Swede – it takes little time to be back in perfect sexy schussing form. I actually learned to ski agreeably downhill without trauma. No one of us suffered even a sprain. I’ll come back and maybe get even better. Alex and Remy say I’m good just like I am. Oh, and Kiki broke her leg showing out for Alex the first time she glimpsed him in the snow.
