Heat Wave

On New Years Day in Sydney it got up to 45C. That's about 113F. It was hot. Even were I live, which is a cool climate part of Oz west of Sydney, it was a scorcher. So I wrote this, wanting the ice not the sex.

Heat Wave

(c) Keziah Hill

Ice cubes slide down her breasts, catch on her nipples, melt. His tongue there, hot, with sharp teeth, pulling. His mouth now fully open, sucks on her whole breast, drawing it in. Her nipple pushes against the bony roof of his mouth, behind his teeth. He pulls away and slides another ice cube around her nipple. Takes it away and flicks her crinkled, pink skin with his tongue. Ice, tongue, ice, tongue.

She wants the ice between her legs; in the crease where thigh meets her body; in the curve from thigh to buttock; where ever skin folds on skin. His fingers are cold when he pushes them in and she sighs with relief. It is short lived.

Her hips move against his fingers taking them deeper. She opens herself wide, laughing at the squelching sound of her moisture. Heat pours down her belly into her cunt, igniting his fingers as they thrust, wet and slick, into her slippery, searing opening. She is so wet his fingers slide off her clit, unable to keep up the friction.

He moves over her and she moans, wanting his cock inside her but not his skin against her. He kneels between her legs, pushes them wide and slowly inches his way in. She is so hot she wonders if this was a good idea after all.

"The ice," she murmurs and he scoops up a hand full to splay across her belly. Stretching across her, he thrusts, the ice between their bodies rapidly melting.

"Quick," she mutters, wrapping her legs around him. "Before it disappears."

His cock feels like it's on fire inside her and she can see sweat pouring down his face, dripping onto her breasts. There are still a few icy patches between them and her nipples are sharp against his slick, slippery chest.

An ice cube slides down between them, resting in her bush. She holds it there as he thrusts in, feeling the cold as a blessed relief. As he comes, she laughs again.

"What?" he mutters, pulling out of her with a plopping sound. The bed is drenched with water. He collapses beside her.

"That was the last of the ice."

"Shit. You know what that means?"

"No gin and tonics."

"I hate summer."