Respite

The heat is one of those inevitable annoyances in life. We spend all of our existence looking for its antidotes. We live in air-conditioned buildings, fan ourselves, wear the lightest materials, consume iced treats, and immerse ourselves in pools or the sea. We often seem obsessed with the cold. Yet what do we seek with it, other than respite?

There are certain sensations to which our biology gives us very little protection: the scorching blaze of fire and the bone-chilling frost of ice. Some individuals may take pleasure from being subjected to extreme temperatures—such as burning candle wax or, in Hayoung’s case, melting ice.

Sweat on her skin, droplets decorating every inch of her flesh in a glistening glow. They move ever so slightly as she breaths, and occasionally one may fall, running down her curves, sinking down her well-toned body until they trail off her body and onto the bed below her, soaking into the towel.

This is a rare occasion where an ice-cold touch will be both a respite and a source of pleasure.

You see Hayoung open her lips, to ask, “What are you going to do?”

“This.” You slip an ice cube into your mouth and lower your lips to hers.

Hayoung accepts you, accepting the coolness you carry with your mouth, and your tongue tangles with hers in a brief dance. So quickly does the ice melt once her heat takes it, so quickly the cool touch vanishes as she warms her gift from you. You place another in your mouth, this time kissing the sides of her neck. Hayoung breathes a sigh of gentle relief.

You run your mouth over her neck, kissing and pressing the ice against her skin, the water expelled from your mouth and replaced with her sweat. You taste it on her skin; there’s an effervescent tinge that stirs your desire in the back of your mouth. You run your mouth over the sensitive crook between her shoulders and her collarbone and she gasps, twitches, and shuffles slightly under you. You stay until the cube completely melts against her.

There’s this hot, humid air that rises from her skin and threatens to engulf you.

“Does that feel good?”

She nods quickly, then eagerly accepts her next ice cube when you offer it on her tongue. You take another for yourself too, purse it in your lips and place them just below her chin. You drag it down her body, your head trailing behind as you leave a faint watery trail down her front, between her breasts. Hayoung lets out short pants as you pull your lips painfully slowly down her skin. Down between her abs. As you run out of ice, you allow the cool water to drain from your mouth and drizzle over her hot skin, letting it flow off her and hit the towel beneath her.

“That tickles,” Hayoung laughs.

“Oh, does it?” You place another cube into your mouth and press it to the side of her neck.

“Ah… Yeah, I like it.” She gasps as it makes contact. This time you drag it down her again, but heading right towards the small mound of her breast. And the soft fleshy mound rises up with each breath, then sinks with every gasp in pleasure. When you finally arrive at her pink bud, she winces, and gently whines, yet allows you to carry on. You brush over her nipple a few times, back and forth while it starts to harden under your cold kiss. It grows perk and tender with a light redness.

Hayoung keeps smiling, laughing, every now and again looking down and watching you carefully rub your ice against her. Sometimes when you look up at her, the sight of her teeth buried into her wet lip fills you with a sense of hunger.

You work another one, in much the same way, starting by the other side of her neck. She moans a quiet sound of pleasure followed by a simple, “Yes.” She squirms more and grips the sheets as the ice nears her other nipple.

“They’re s-sensitive, you know,” she stammers as you approach, almost apologetically, perhaps, she can’t quite get her words out.

You make a few teasing brushes at the bud before finally closing your lips around it and taking it fully into the ice-cold depth of your mouth. Her reaction is immediate, she rolls her head back and clenches her body.

Then when you release her, it elicits a small whimper of loss.

You take one of her hands in yours, and with the ice cube in your mouth again, you start at her wrist, messily trailing ice-cold water across the skin. You reach her upper arm, then dip into her armpit—where it really tickles her. With your free hand, you delicately tweak at her nipple—the now freezing wet nub only adding to her arousal as you press on. Repeated licks of her armpit are enough to make her squirm, as she laughs out half-hearted pleads to stop.

You repeat it again, as you did before, to her other arm. Licking up sweat and replacing it with ice-cold kisses and tiny droplets of water. She tastes sweet and salty—her body worthy to feast on.

You stand and look over her. Her arms spread to the side and everything above her waist soaked in your kisses. She’s still flush with heat, burning up, even after your cooling efforts. She seems to burn ever hotter, an inviting presence, and she lays, wet and glistening with trails of water following her contours and pooling under her. She pants softly.

You tease her, “You’re wetter than the ice, right now, aren’t you?”

Her smile widens and her eyes smile too, her embarrassment turning to eagerness, she bites her lip, “Mmmm,” her confirmation is brief but deep and heavy with desire.

Her eyes follow you hungrily as you move back towards the side of the bed, and pick up a pair of cubes. You take them directly to her breasts, encircling her little nubs.

“How does that feel?” you ask softly, playing with them.

She bites her lip, exhales deeply, and struggles to give a tangible response.

You trail them down onto her abs and watch as they tense up under you. You feel her muscles tighten under your touch. Hayoung’s breathing grows heavier in anticipation as you near her hips. And there’s a smile she flashes you—knowing what she wants you to do, and knowing you have some intention of doing it.

You enjoy the way her tight little waist reacts to the change in temperature as she twists and arches herself up. Her smooth, well-trained curves, her naked body. When the cubes melt away to almost nothing, you trace wet fingertips over her v-line, teasing at the curve of her hips.

More ice in your mouth, and a new target. “These feet must be so sore. Did you work them so hard today? Does it hurt?”

“So sore,” she affirms. “I danced for hours.”

You lift one of her legs, bringing her foot up to your mouth. And you run your tongue along its base, up, to her toes, and back down again. She whimpers softly and flexes her toes. You catch each of them, one by one in your mouth, and nurse them gently. “But you were amazing up there,” you add.

Hayoung mumbles in embarrassment, hiding her face in her hand.

You let her rest the sole of her foot against your face, as you lick and kiss at her, soothing her tender soles and relaxing her muscles. Hayoung peeks through her fingers, “That tickles so much,” she says with a quiet laugh. You massage the ice-cold water into her skin, massaging her muscles with firm, sweeping movements and she sighs a comfortable, pleasured sigh.

You kiss your way to her ankle—admiring the toned softness of her leg as you look down. You rest it on your shoulder and bring her other foot up to repeat the same actions. Caressing her sole with cold licks, massaging, and pressing them against your cheek. “Relaxed yet?”

“Mhm,” she moans with a delightful approval.

After repeating the massage on her other foot, you set them on your shoulders, and with ice in each hand, you massage her legs with firm strokes. Up her thighs. Drinking up her deep exhales and moans as you travel further and further up, towards the end of her legs, where you take a pause at her inner thigh. The skin is delicate, soft and tender. And the heat that rises from it quickly melts the ice.

Hayoung knows where you want to go—where she wants you to go—so when she sets her legs back on the table, she spreads them wide. Her pussy is flushed and warm and looks so soft and inviting. She bites her finger while she waits for you. You leave her for a moment, going back to collect one more ice cube from the tray, returning to between her legs.

“You look so tasty. Do you want me to kiss it?”

She smiles at you, nodding.

“How many people were watching you today? You deserve a reward, don’t you think?”

She nods again.

“So many people looking at these toned legs. These tight abs…”

She nods, her cheeks flushed with desire.

“Are you happy to have such a hot, sexy little body?”

She bites her lip. “Are you?”

There’s a mutual smile between you as you lean in towards her. You hold your mouth just above her pussy and wait. Wait until a drop of icy water falls from it and lands between her lips.

“Ah.” Her voice quivers as it hits her. She tries to spread herself as best she can for you, tilting her hips. You wait for more to fall onto her. Each droplet is followed by a small yelp and a series of squirms. Satisfied, you lean in to start just below her navel, trailing the ice cube towards her hips, making slow sweeping arcs in both directions as you tease her. Closer and closer you get to her pussy, which quivers and flexes each time you pass over the soft flesh just by its sides.

Finally, you plant your cube at the very top of her slit, letting it melt and pour down her sensitive opening. It runs over her and down between her cute little ass cheeks and into the towel below. She finally lets out a full, true moan of satisfaction—like she’s been waiting forever. She wriggles her hips up and down, enjoying the sensation.

“Your moans are so cute,” you tell her, planting your lips on the inside of her thigh.

You can’t hold her off anymore, the pleading desperation in her whines, the writhing of her hips, so you take another cube, and this time plant your lips right over her swollen, hot clit. Hayoung winces and nearly leaps, lifting her legs and hooking her ankles around your back, holding you tight, forcing you to accept her, as though she didn’t want to give up the source of her pleasure.

The cube quickly melts into her sensitive nub, she squeezes and quivers under the sensation. “It’s so cold and… mmm!” Her sounds, her cries, the desperate heaving of her chest, the hotness that flows between her legs.

It’s made her so sensitive that she reacts instantly to every movement of your mouth, even the slightest change in pressure. Cold licks to her pussy have her mewling and arching her back. She clutches the bed tightly, almost in pain—the most pleasurable pain you’ve ever given her.

Your jaw grows sore, but it’s okay—she doesn’t last much longer after that.

“I’m… ah! I’m…” You can feel her energy rising inside. Rising. Pushing back against you.

She thrashes her head from one side to the other, clenches her legs and twists her ankles, her stomach heaving, her skin abuzz with little sparks of electricity, the salty sweetness of her arousal runs freely as she erupts.

And she clings to you, clenches her thighs around your head, tight, tight, tighter as waves of bliss rise through her. It washes over her body, sweeping every muscle with pulses of ecstasy, her mouth lets out a glorious, freeing cry. Hot liquid pours from her pussy and over your chin, sweet and tantalizing, as you bathe her in kisses, suck and tease her sweetly sensitive nub, savouring the flavour of her excitement, even as she grows more and more overstimulated. Until the pulses fade and she relaxes—too spent to hang on.

You pry her thighs from your head and stand to see her fully as your eyes drink her in—how beautiful. She breathes deeply, smiling, staring upwards. She gives herself time to come down, panting hard and melting back down to earth.

She’s barely having a moment to recover and you’re already placing more ice in your mouth and holding some in your hand. You take your mouth to her nipple once again—taking her by surprise. She reacts weakly, laughing as you work on her.

When you put your hand between her legs and touch ice to her clit a second time, she lets out a quick scream of shock and then twitches and writhes. A delicious look of surprise and amusement mixed in her smile and voice. “So soon?”

You respond by rubbing the ice against her pussy, dragging it up and down. Over her hole then back to her clit. Back and forth, up, down. Hayoung arches herself and tries to pull away—but not because she doesn’t want it. Because it’s overwhelming, but so enjoyable, that her nerves struggle to keep up. She finds it difficult to speak, struggling for air. And she turns into an erotic little mess under your touch.

You kiss her breasts as you start to work your fingers harder against her, and her entire body starts to rock up and down with the motions. She reaches out, digging her fingers into your hair and drawing your face against her breast. “Yes! Please!” She moans. And so you keep at it, you kiss her and tease her and take advantage of how sensitive and weak her body is. You allow her pleasure to bloom out over her—blossoming bright and colourful.

By now, the ice has melted entirely, and you focus entirely on stimulating her clit with your fingers—quick, urgent circles. Just the way you know she likes it.

Again you can feel her build up her energy, rising high, above the horizon and preparing to unleash a cascade. You bite her gently and work your fingers so quickly, that all she can do is emit a guttural moan of desire, so overcome with pleasure she cannot properly vocalise anything more.

When the dam of her lust breaks and she’s sent floating down the river, it’s only your name that she manages to cry.

Hayoung cums so hard that her body seizes up entirely. Fiery tingles sweep over her limbs. Waves crash down within, sending her reeling, eyes closed, open-mouthed and moaning long and low. She grips tightly into your hair while pleasure pulsates within. The sound of her bliss echoes between the walls of the room. Finally, her pleasure drains away. Her voice fades out and her body goes slack.

You try to lift yourself up to observe the fruit of your labour—but she holds you close.

“Oh god. Wait. A minute,” she forces the words from her lips. “Just… don’t move.”

As Hayoung drifts through her post-orgasmic haze, you feel her heartbeat through her bare, sweat-kissed skin. It slows as she relaxes. Her chest rises with every breath, and she flutters her eyes to try and fix the world before her. There’s an easy smile that comes so naturally, and she has to breathe several times before the words, “That was perfect,” can come.

You might not have actually cooled her down some, but relief came in a different form. A beautiful form.

“It’s okay,” you tell her. “Just lie down and rest. I can get the shower ready.”

She agrees without a word.

You take a moment to bask in the sight of her before you step away. She glows in post-orgasmic bliss. Her slender naked body is bare in all its beautiful, wet glory. This gorgeous, ethereal goddess, this divine human, who graces us, who we, by some luck are fortunate to live among—to watch on the TV, to listen to on the radio, to watch perform and give her life to the dance. And you, by some greater luck, are fortunate to make her feel the deepest of pleasures.