The Iceman Cometh

The dolphin was in its crate, packed with 24-hours worth of dry ice. The naked young woman, shyly covering herself, was slowly melting on a buffet table at the Four Seasons. The trophy was finished, waiting in the freezer to be crated. Karen was done for the day. She lay on the couch for a long moment, just recovering her energy.

As an ice sculptor, she didn't get to fill galleries with her artwork, hoping someone would purchase something. Her most magnificent pieces would never grace a museum. Everything she made had a limited lifespan. Within hours of delivery, her greatest creations would be puddles of water.

But now, for once, she'd made something for herself. Rest time was over. It was play time.

Karen grabbed up the box she'd brought home. It had taken weeks to find the thing. It hadn't been played with in twenty years. She'd searched her parents' attic and basement and her grandmother's storage shed. She'd finally located it in a bag of Halloween costumes in her cousin's garage.

She carried her package into her refrigerated studio. For a moment, Karen just studied the masterpiece on the worktable. He was a tall man, handsome and well-built. His hair was curly and clipped short. His features were Greco-Roman. His hands were broad, with thick, suggestive fingers. His arms and legs were finely muscled, no flab or steroid veins marring the magnificent contours.

His cock was a thing of beauty, Karen congratulated herself. She'd sculpted it carefully and meticulously, shaping the perfect penis, a dick any man could be proud of and any woman would love to ride.

Karen took her package and climbed onto the table. Iceman was a foot and a half taller than she was, which delighted her. She loved to be dwarfed by a man. And his shoulders were broad and thick. She had never made anything finer in her life.

But now for the test. She opened the box and pulled out a ratty top hat. As a child, the games she and her friends played with this hat had been the most incredible experiences of her entire youth. She had tried to convince herself that it had all been in her imagination, but she couldn't quite let go. This hat had shaped her entire life. She had become an ice sculptor because of this hat.

Karen stood on her tip toes, her fingers trembling as she reached up and set the hat on her creation's head. For a long, timeless moment, nothing happened. Karen sighed in disappointment.

Then Iceman shuddered. Tremors vibrated through the figure. Solid ice flowed like flesh and bone.

Iceman looked around the room. He studied his hands. The ice was shiny, reflective. He could see his face in his palm. Finally, he looked at Karen and smiled broadly.

"Happy Birthday!" said the Iceman.

"Frosty!" Karen sighed. "It's good to see you."

"You've grown up," he said.

"You like?" Karen asked, hopping off the table and spinning for his inspection.

"Oh, I like," he said. "I like a lot."

Karen took off her heavy parka and dropped it to the floor. She pulled off her sweatshirt and tossed it away. Her t-shirt went flying, to land on a block of ice, waiting to be carved. Her snow pants fell to her ankles.

"Beautiful," he said. "Erotic. You give me a hard-on." Karen laughed at that literal truth. She had lovingly designed that penis, already erect and rigid as thick ice.

Shivering in her bra and thong, Karen gave another spin, then walked out of the freezing studio. "If you want me," she said, "Come and get me."

Back in her planning area, Karen waited for her icy friend to follow. She'd long fantasized about trying this. She'd been practicing making men of ice for years, always remembering that magic hat from her childhood, wondering if it would still work. When she'd sculpted this magnificent male, she'd known that it was finally time. This one was perfect. And as the shining, translucent figure came out of the freezer, she praised whatever god had made that hat in the first place.

"I'm here, Frosty," she said, standing next to her napping sofa. She intended to do something much more interesting than sleeping this day.

"Frosty is a child's name," the Iceman told her. "I am no child. You can call me 'Frost.'"

Karen nodded, her eyes wide and bright. "Anything you say, Frost. I've been waiting a long time for you to return."

The giant stalked her across the room as she eagerly awaited him. Frost reached for her with both hands, easily tearing her bra and panties and throwing them to the sides. He grabbed her by the waist, his cold fingers gripping her tightly. Karen gasped at the icy touch on her skin. She squealed as her feet left the ground and she was hoisted up in the air. And she shrieked as she found herself kneeling on Frost's shoulders, her pussy pressed to his chilled lips.

It was a dreadful shock, the freezing cold lips against her heated sex, but Frost's tongue was stroking her clit, and she quickly adjusted to the cold. Her bare thighs were pressed to his frozen cheeks. Her naked legs were resting on his frigid shoulders. And that agile, wet ice cube in his mouth was probing her welcoming pussy.

Karen grabbed his head and thrust against his face, positioning her pussy right where his tongue would be the most effective. Frost sucked on her clit, and slipped his tongue inside her. He licked the lips of her pussy and chewed on the soft hairs guarding her entrance. Karen came, shuddering and shivering, as the Iceman feasted on her cunt.

But he wasn't done yet. He lowered Karen to the floor to start stage two. But Karen wasn't ready yet. Frost had just given her a magnificent orgasm. She was a firm believer in fair play. Karen dropped to her knees and did what she'd wanted to do since she'd first shaped that beautiful cock. She opened her mouth and took him between her lips.

She sucked on Frost's cocksicle, letting her tongue go numb from the cold, swallowing the glacial, watery pre-cum that came from his tip and melted from his shaft. But she didn't want him to shrink to nothing in her heated mouth. Reluctantly, Karen released him. She desperately wanted Frost to fuck her before he puddled on the floor.

Karen stood up and moved to the couch, lying down and spreading her legs in invitation. "Come on, Frost," she said. "You know what to do."

Frost grinned at her. "Oh, happy birthday to me!" he said. He came down on top of her like a slab of ice. His frozen cock plunged into Karen's hot pussy, making her gasp with pain and wonder.

This might kill her, she realized. Hypothermia was no joke. But, trembling with cold and fear and desire, Karen was willing to take that risk.

"Fuck me," she begged him. "Fuck me hard!"

Frost drove himself into her, shoving his massive cock deep in her pussy. For years, Karen had dreamed of this possibility. She'd shoved ice cubes up inside herself. She'd used popsicles as dildos. She'd broken an icicle off her mailbox and fucked herself with it until it melted away to nothing. Now, finally, there was a real cock, made of magical, living ice, thrusting in and out of her.

Karen was coming again, spasms rocking her body, grunts and gasps and little screams emitting from her mouth. Frost silenced her orgasmic cries by covering her mouth with his own, shoving his tongue inside, mimicking the more intimate invasion happening between her legs. Karen wrapped her thighs and arms around him and let the tremors take her.

Frost rode her willing body like a bucking bronco. He took her like she was a cheap whore, holding her down and taking his pleasure without a care to the damage his icy dick was doing to the delicate tissues of her cunt.

But that's how Karen wanted it. She was a whore. She was Frost's whore, Frost's slut. Karen was the Iceman's bitch. Frost was welcome to fuck her to death if he chose.

But Frost had different ideas. He came up off of her, and dragged Karen to her feet. He wasn't done fucking her, but he could minimize the risks a little. He spun her around, shoved her feet apart, and pushed her face down onto the sofa cushions. He threw a blanket over her head and shoulders, then grabbed her hips, took aim, and drove himself deep inside her again.

He was rough, and violent, but Karen didn't care. And it had gotten easier. Frost's cock was smaller than it had been. The heat of her pussy had been melting the beautiful dick she'd carved for him. But the man was an expert in the use of his tool. Even diminished, he was hitting just the right spots, bringing her to orgasm yet again.

And this time, Frost joined her. He went as deep as he could, holding tight to her hips, making damn sure she couldn't retreat from his piercing cock. He came, deep in her cunt, spurting icy cold meltwater into her. Karen pushed back against Frost, trying to bring him as deep as possible as he poured into her.

When he let her go, Karen tumbled to the floor. She was shivering uncontrollably, chilled inside and out by the Iceman. Frost threw his head back, panting and sweating his skin off. He roared to the ceiling and the heavens in masculine triumph and conquest. Today, he had lost his virginity.

But Karen had no time to share in his achievement. She'd only been this cold a few times before, but she knew what to do. She ran to the corner bathroom and turned on the shower. Hot, hot, hot water. But it would be too much of a shock to get in just yet. Karen wrapped herself in blankets and let the steam warm up the room.

Only then did she look at her lover. Standing there in his victory pose, his arms outstretched, his legs in a wide stance, his head thrown far back, his magic hat had fallen to the floor.

Karen let it stay there. Frost was nothing now but a melting ice sculpture. Karen needed to rest and warm up before she could think through the experience she'd just had. Frost had given her one hell of a good fucking. But he was dangerous. Next time, there would have to be some precautions.

But the hat worked. And her old pal, Frosty, was perfectly capable of dealing with her as an adult. In a few weeks, maybe months, she'd sculpt a new Frost, an even better one. If she gave him two cocks next time, he could take her front and back at once.

Musing over her future plans for the snowman, Karen watched his current incarnation slowly drip, drip, drip into the rug.