When I was a junior in high school my science teacher did an experiment with us. Josie, my lab partner, was looking hot as usual, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and her too-tight t-shirt leaving just a hint of her bare belly visible. As we partnered up, he passed out ice cubes on a styrofoam tray.
It was an experiment on pain and nerve receptors in the skin. If you touched an ice cube to the tip of your tongue, you couldn't tell if it was hot or cold. Josie giggled. "Ooh, kinky," she said, and stuck her tongue out at me, closing her eyes. I was transfixed by the way her tongue poked out at me from between her full, red lips. I stared at her tanned legs, and her cutoff shorts, and fumbled with the paper towel.
Delicately, I leaned over and touched the ice cube to her tongue. She squealed in surprise, her legs splaying out in front of me. "'At 'eels 'ot!" she cried, as we burst into laughter together. She narrowed her eyes at me. "Now close your eyes, mister."
I will always remember the way the ice felt as it touched my skin, delightfully sharp and hot, the pleasure, then the bite of pain a few seconds later. How could something that burned you later feel so good at first?
Snap forward ten years. Josie, former high school cheerleader, my senior prom date, my steady college girlfriend, now my ex. It was a ride. When I think back on the events of the last few years, where the slide started, those moments of pain mixed with indescribable pleasure, seeing my wife in ecstasy with other men, the thrill, the risk, the rush, I can only take it in small bits, like breaking my life up into little ice cubes and casting them across the table. Check it out.
We got married in a small church overlooking the ocean in St. Johns. There weren't many people there, we had decided to keep this a fairly private ceremony. Josie was stunning in her wedding dress, a gauzy floaty thing that wrapped around her head like clouds surrounding the sun. "I love it!" she cried, twirling in the sunlight, her blonde hair falling free. "And I love you!"
We had been together for five years, and had had our ups and downs, but in the end we kept finding each other again, just because we were so comfortable. We had each played around with dating other people, sometimes overlapping with our own dating, but it was cool. It seemed like whenever Josie went away, when she came back it was better than ever.
A year or so later, we spent our anniversary back in St. Johns, at the same hotel we had stayed a during our honeymoon. The beautiful beach was the same, but the people had changed, and no one recognized us, which I guess is pretty common with a resort area.
Anyway, back in town we ended up at the tiny hotel bar, where the owner came out and served us wine in earthen carafes, and Josie kicked off her heels and got up to dance. She moved her body to the music, swaying her slender hips, kicking her long tanned legs, flexing her toes, running her hands down her waist, pushing them up beneath her full breasts, and raising them up to the sky, closing her eyes in rapture. Every eye in the bar was on my beautiful wife. I just sat back, pounded some beers, and watched.
One of the waiters, muscular and burnt brown by the sun, joined my wife on the dance floor. He came up behind her, and I heard her gasp as he encircled her hips with his arm and drew her back against his waist. The two of them moved as one, thrusting against each other. From over Josie's shoulder the man grinned at me. His white teeth gleamed in the near dark of the bar. I raised my beer glass to him, nodded, and smiled. He leaned over and whispered into Josie's ear from time to time, and I could see his tongue flicking against her earlobe. Josie smiled, and playfully pulled away from him, wriggling her hips back against him.
I'm not the jealous type. It turns me on to see Josie flirting with other guys. If I let it get to me we wouldn't have lasted very long as a couple because every time she walks into a room, heads turn. And she likes the attention. It gets her aroused. Josie uses the attention of other guys as a springboard to tear my clothes off and fuck my brains out.
In bed, Josie is insatiable. She has imagination, and stamina, and loves sex, several times a day, in many different positions. When I am underneath her, all I need to do is see her above me, feel her grinding down on my cock, her eyes closed and her eyebrows knit in concentration, biting her lip softly, her breasts swaying right above my face. All I have to do is reach my tongue out and lick her nipples, squeezing her soft breasts with my hands, and it's enough to make her come, panting and crying out, her body writhing above me, her pussy contracting in pulses around my cock.
As the song ended, Josie pulled away from the waiter. His hands lingered on her hips, then traced their way down both of her legs, sliding across her thighs and over her firm ass as he bent over, ending in a fully exaggerated bow. Josie giggled, then clapped a hand over her mouth. She fairly ran back to me. I could see her face was glistening, her curls unkempt. She bit her lip softly. She was breathing hard.
"I need you inside me," she said matter-of-factly. No need to tell me twice. We were upstairs in the bedroom in about two minutes, Josie was naked beneath me, wrapping her legs around me, her erect nipples hard against my chest as we ground tightly together over and over again until she had an orgasm, her hands clenched around my bicep muscles, moaning and gasping out my name.
Afterward, as we lay breathing heavily together in the dark, I could tell Josie was still thinking about the waiter. We only made love with that kind of frenzy when she had been flirting with other guys. We were on our vacation, a time when we were free to be wild and crazy, around people we would probably never see again.
"Bring him up here, babe," I told her. "It's okay." I didn't need to tell her twice. Josie rolled over in bed to look at me, to see if I was serious, then gave me a long, passionate kiss. She kicked the sheets off, and pulled on her denim shorts. She didn't wear any panties.
"It's just sex," she said to me. "I know," I told her. "Stay right here," she said breathlessly.
After Josie left the room, I got up, smoothed the covers, and plopped down in a wicker chair in the semi-darkness of the room. My head was spinning, and it wasn't just because of the alcohol. My cock had stiffened again, and my heart was racing. I could still hear the pulsing bass beat of the music from the bar downstairs, glasses clinking, and laughter from somewhere down the hall. A cool island breeze wafted in the open window, stirring the curtains, and it felt good on my hot skin. I closed my eyes, and I must have dozed off.
Have you ever had one of those dreams where everything is hyper-real? By that, I mean the colors, the sounds, the scents all seem incredibly vivid, and time seems to slow down? You wonder what is real, and what is fantasy, and if it's good, you hope you don't wake up before it's all over? That's what the rest of the night felt like to me, a dream of different sights and sounds, only I knew it was real. I knew I wasn't imagining it, and that made it all the more exciting. Later I filled in the events of the night with Josie's recollections, as she related them to me later on.
Josie and her guy slipped into the room, lit only by the moonlight and the streetlight outside (I later found out his name was Miguel.) They weren't talking because they were kissing deeply, longingly, his hands stroking and caressing every part of her body. Every so often I heard her sigh softly as he stroked her breast over her t-shirt, or grazed the inside of her calf.
When she felt her legs touch the edge of the bed, Josie pulled Miguel toward her. Instead, he gave her a little push and she fell backward onto the bed with a little squeal of surprise. Miguel stripped off his white shirt, revealing a hard, lean, chiseled body. He was a young man, probably about twenty-one or twenty-two. I saw Josie's eyes widen, taking him all in. In a smooth motion he dropped his shorts.
I am thirty-two as I write this, and we were twenty-six when this happened. I have kept myself in good shape, and I have never been self-conscious about my body. I have had my fair share of lovers, and I know my cock is above average in size, and I know what to do with it. I say this not to boast, but so that when I tell you that Miguel made me look and feel like an underdeveloped freshman on the varsity team, you will really understand what I mean.
This man was a sight to behold. His semi-erect penis reached nearly to his mid-thigh, and looked about as thick as my wrist. Josie reached up for it with both hands and started to lick the head of his cock. She could barely fit all of the head in her mouth, and as she pumped his shaft with both hands, it stiffened and began to grow even longer. He threw his head back in pleasure, his muscles flexing as I watched Josie's hair swaying back and forth as she licked his cock. She cupped his balls with her hands, squeezing them gently as she swirled her tongue all over his cock, up and down, bobbing her head.
Neither of them had noticed me yet. Josie was sitting up in the bed, one leg bent, and one stretched out. In the moonlight I could see that the denim crotch of her shorts was soaked. Now she pumped his shaft with one hand and caressed her breasts with her other hand; her nipples were so hard they stood straight out from the fabric like gumdrops. Miguel flexed his ass and pumped his cock into Josie's mouth faster and faster. As he shook her body, her nipples grazed the fabric of the t-shirt and the little electric sensations got her even hotter. I could see spit leaking out of Josie's lips, stretched tightly around the head of his cock, and she made a little mmm sound each time he thrust deeper into her mouth. His breathing increased, and as it did, Josie grabbed his ass with her hands and crammed more of his cock into her mouth, trying to take as much of it as she could.
