Canadians naturally enough have a heightened sense of awareness of the terrible danger posed by cold. Mike proves it:

It started on the couch. Chelle was just wearing one of my t-shirts, and was all bundled up watching a movie. I came over, sat with her, her feet in my lap. Rubbed them a little, and then peaked under the blanket. No undies. Eeeeeep.

My biggest fear was that her pussy would get cold, and she’d catch a flu, and then she’d be miserable for weeks. Sure she was covered up, but there still could be drafts blowing underneath or something. It was very much an emergency, so I did the only thing I could think of – I put my mouth on her.

Yes I’m silly. What of it?
…
It was even worse then I feared – she wasn’t wearing a bra.

As an object lesson I pulled the shirt up over her head, and got up for some supplies. When I got back, I applied an ice cube to her nipples, to show her the danger that cold represents. Then because I needed her out of danger I applied some of that warming massage oil and breathed on them. The way her back arched, my goodness.