Posts tagged “Heat

Bead of sweat

the thermometer is reading ninety-fucking-mental and slow, lazy lines of sweat trickle down your body, tracing the curves of your breasts and belly and thighs in long, slow lines. i follow them with my mouth, saline dribbles wet against my lips. i chase a little rivulet down your spine to its tip with my tongue.

i kneel and pull your cheeks apart and watch as the tiny droplet of sweat slides slowly down between them. you start to touch yourself as the tip of my tongue meets the bead of sweat and i feel you quiver at the feather-light touch of my lips on your ass. i kiss you like i would kiss your mouth, luxuriously and wet. your hips thrust and delirious moans explode from your chest and, as your orgasm builds, i feel you twitch and relent and i push my tongue into you as you come. sweat pours down you, in the heat of your passion and the day, as my hands clasp your butt cheeks greedily as my tongue plunges deep into you and you shudder and scream as you orgasm blasts through your whole body like a thousand tiny firecrackers dancing through your every nerve.

after, we collapse in a hot and sticky heap, we grin and hug and remind each other just how much we love each other.


Ok, now I’m warming to the ice cube theme.

it is hot – one of the hottest days of the year, if not the hottest, even the walls are sweating and we drip with it, but we have a bucket full of ice cubes.

we strip and start by cooling each others brows with the ice, it melts quickly, trickling down our faces in tiny, delicious, chills. we hold a cube between our mouths and let our lips melt it, kissing around it, biting at it.

i caress your neck with an ice cube in each hand, licking at the rivulets as they fall over your breasts. you run two, in long slow sweeps across my belly and smile as little shivers spread out across my body like ripples on a pond. then i take two fresh frozen cubes to your breasts, lingering on your nipples, the contrast between heat and cold is extreme and you gasp uncontrollably with it.

i place one in your belly button and hold you down until it melts; you make the most delightful noises. next, you hold one, fresh from the bucket, to the tip of my cock, which twitches uncontrollably with the sensation, so intense that it feels like electricity, like tiny lightning bolts shooting down its length. you rub it around in little circles and i struggle to keep still; it melts incredibly quickly. the next, you rub slowly up and down the length of my length, licking gently at the droplets of melt water, letting them cool your lips and tongue, listening to my moans of delight mingling with my squeals of shock.

my next starts on your belly button again, but now i slide it, ever so slowly, directly downwards, and you gulp in anticipation and squirm but you do not want me to stop, and i don’t. when the cold of the ice touches the heat of your clit there is almost a hissing sound, like a snowball being thrown into a bonfire, the contrast is so great and you scriggle (which is word i just made up and means ‘halfway between a scream and a giggle’). it melts almost instantly and i take another and pop it gently inside you and through your gasps you call me a bastard. i use my cock to slowly push it deeper into you. its cold wetness colliding with your hot wetness. it is almost unbearable and we both struggle to catch our breath as it goes deeper.

it is way too hot to fuck fast or furiously and our love making is slow and deep and when we cum we do it together in long close shudders and, like the ice cubes, we melt.


A quickie

I imagine a hot day, sweltering in fact, and I imagine the air-con has broken down. I tied up to our big bed and helpless, I would torture you with an ice cube. First I would cool your sweating forehead with it. Then your mouth, I would chill your red, lusting lips making them cold to the kiss but I would kiss the warmth back into them. Then i would move down your body, very slowly wetting your neck, loving how it made you giggle. I would watch you shudder and I would lick greedily at the melting but chilling water as it slowly drenched your panting breasts. I would linger slightly too long and you would writhe under me, pretending to want to be set free but you would not stand a chance of that. I would find the hottest part of you and the ice cube would melt completely over the stove of your longing. you would beg me, ever so slightly, to stop but I would not. I would release you and enter you and we would fuck like angry tigers. Tearing at each other, pulling ourselves into each other, forgetting ourselves. We would collapse after into brainless heaps unable to even remember our own names. We would have no names. We would just be.


Top Ten Status Updates

I was looking through my old Farcebook status updates – these were my top ten, in no particular order. Please help yourselves, and feel free to add some of your own in the comments section, I am sure to use them:

  • “will be as faithful to you as a dog and come every time you whistle”
  • “is bigger on the inside”
  • “remembers the time you ate his goldfish”
  • “wanted to unleash a deadly computer virus on you all but couldn’t master the technology – would you mind manually deleting all the important files from your hard drive please and pass this on to fifty of your friends?”
  • “is why they put a warning on the box”
  • “knows where you live”
  • “doesn’t understand why the cat was in the bag in the first place”
  • “says the first law of thermodynamics is that we don’t talk about thermodynamics”
  • “is proof that ancient man mated with neanderthals”
  • “bought some batteries, but they weren’t included”

A pan – another attempt at poetry

Think of youself – as a pan of water,
And me as the fire – of the stove underneath.
Softly I lick you – slowly, you feel
Little ripples of heat – scampering through you.

The window wide open – and cold morning air
Wafts gently across you – in icy contrasts.
The heat growing stronger – rising up through you,
You roll like an ocean – in long slow convulsions.

Bubbles now swarming – through you and up you
Stinging and bursting – on your surface in gasps.
The bubbles now grow – in size and in number,
You pop and you fizzle – and writhe and spit steam

You rise up again – you have no control
And you spill and you burst – out of the pan
In long, thick cascades – screaming my name,
You fizz and you gurgle – and froth down the sides.

We lie there quite still – just trembling slightly,
I am extinguished – and you are quite empty.
Somebody calls – from a kitchen somewhere,
“Mum has forgotten – to turn the stove off again!”