The Snow Queen Gets Lonely - Sex Stories

The Snow Queen Gets Lonely

... castle mirroring her growing sense of hopelessness. She had created a masterpiece, but without life, he was nothing more than a beautiful sculpture, as cold and unfeeling as the ice he was made of.

Overwhelmed by her failure, Freya sank to her knees. The cold seeped through her dress, biting into her skin, but she barely noticed it. Her gaze was fixed on her creation, the icy figure standing tall and regal in the dim light of her castle. The sight of him, so perfect yet so lifeless, was a cruel mockery of her desires.

Tears welled up in Freya's eyes, blurring her vision. She had been so hopeful, so certain that she could break free from her solitude. But now, all her dreams seemed to crumble before her,

The glow of the Arctic sun filtered through the icy walls of her castle, casting a shimmering light on her creation. Her gaze fell on his grand appendage, standing erect and gleaming in the light. As she looked at it, a tantalizing thought crossed her mind, a thought that sent a shiver of anticipation coursing through her.

Why not? Why not enjoy it anyway?

True, he couldn't move, couldn’t speak, but he could still be perfectly serviceable in other ways. After all, she had made him anatomically correct for a reason. The very thought sent a rush of heat coursing through her veins, a warmth she hadn’t felt in months.

Freya approached her creation. She reached out, her long, white fingers brushing against the icy surface of his grand appendage. It was cold, yet ...

... it held an allure that was undeniably enticing. She traced the icy veins that ran along its length, her touch light and exploratory, before wrapping her fingers around his girth. The cold granite hardness in her grip sent a thrill coursing through her, igniting a burning hunger deep within her lions.

Yes, she decided. He was still more than capable of satisfying her current desires.

Freya abruptly turned to face away from her icy creation, her heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and nerves, her hands trembling slightly as she reached up and slid the thin straps of her crystalline gown off her shoulders. The fabric rustled softly as it cascaded down her body like a frozen waterfall, the icy material glinting in the soft light as it pooled around her feet.

Freya carefully stepped out of the icy puddle of her discarded dress, the cold air kissing her bare skin. She slid her dainty feet out of her shoes, her toes flexing against the icy floor.

She was bare before her creation, her body vulnerable yet inviting. She reached behind her head with both hands and grasped her long platinum braid, pulling it over her shoulder to rest against her chest.

She gazed down at her petite breasts, rising and falling with each breath. Her rosy nipples had puckered into rigid peak—less due to the chill of the arctic air than the anticipation coursing through her body. Clasping her braid with one hand, she brought the other up to trace along the curves of her bosom, relishing ...