Fire and Ice

Chapter 1

Victoria uttered a curse, an uncharacteristic oath as she stared at the person on the street corner.

The heavy dampness inside and outside the car, the rain, and the fog on the windows, made it difficult for her to know if the figure huddled at the omnibus stop was male or female. Inside the motorcar, the wet was in her eyes, dammed up during another morning of sullen bickering with her husband, the tears spilling over now that she had dropped him off at the train station for his morning ride to London. Outside, it was raining again, the drizzle coming down through the gray overcast sky, the wetness in the trees lining the road, the rain whipped by a capricious wind. Victoria leaned forward, wiped at her eyes, and peered hard through the windscreen before she was certain the figure was indeed that of a young man, probably a student at the local university, and by that time she had driven past him.

Suddenly, she slowed the car and stopped completely. You're mad, she thought. No, she was not mad; she told herself she knew precisely what she was doing. She checked the rear window, then swung the car around and returned up the road.

She would offer that young man a ride, a maybe other things as well. Why shouldn't she? Her husband of ten years seemed to scarcely want her anymore. To Sebastian she was obviously flawed, either inside or out, and by offering herself to a stranger, she could at least discover if there were some glaring defect in her looks that was not revealed by the mirror.

Madness, she thought. But she would do it anyway.

Brenda, her worldly-wise friend, had said: "Darling, Sebastian is just going through a phase. He'll probably get over it, but in the meantime there is no reason for you to get all frustrated. Have yourself an affair, darling. There are scads of men out there who would love to be with you, and it would serve Sebastian right if you went out and found yourself a bit of fun. Pick out a perfect stranger -- they're the safest -- and just jump right into bed with him, and then never see him again. It will take the wrinkles out of your ego, not to mention taking the wrinkles out of your fanny."

Victoria thought it crude earthy advice, but fairly logical advice also. She was indeed becoming frustrated, and her feminine ego was badly damaged. An affair with a perfect stranger might be just what she needed. She had thought about it enough during the past few weeks, as the bickering with Sebastian had increased. She had pictured herself with suave, handsome men of the world, nude on a satin-covered bed, being made love to with passionate ardor, and while those images had provided her a measure of mental revenge for Sebastian's neglect, they had only served in the end to increase her frustration. Of course those perfect strange men were not available to her in Bromley. She did not know anyone like that. She was merely a suburban wife, and she hardly ever went to London like Brenda did. Brenda was divorced, and she had an active life in both London and in Bromley. Victoria told herself the perfect strangers of her dreams, if she ever found them in Bromley, would no doubt destroy what remained of her marriage. What she needed, then, was an imperfect stranger, someone young, the ideal male animal for a flirtation with a minimum of danger and a maximum of ego-bolstering reaction. A student. It would be a flirtation and nothing more. She could test herself at her worst with him -- her eyes red from weeping, no makeup, unalluringly dressed -- and in the unlikely event that he reacted too strongly, she could easily dissuade him. Madness, perhaps, but it was certainly in keeping with her present mood of marital rebellion, and it was not nearly as mad as picking up some man in a pub, as Brenda had been urging her to do.

The young man was still there on the bench when she passed him on the other side of the road. Now or never, Victoria thought. She could either impulsively flaunt herself before the hot eyes of this student, or she could gradually turn into a meek little mouse of a wife who lived only to cater to Sebastian Spence.

She braked the car, made a complete turn, then braked again at the curb near the bench where the student sat dripping in the rain. She swung the door open. She did not even look at herself in the mirror; she wanted to see her reflection in his eyes. And those eyes opened wide at her smiling invitation.

"Get in before you drown," she said. "I'll give you a ride to your college. Or wherever it is you're going."

His mouth fell open. He sat paralyzed for several moments, then fairly leaped into the car. He shut the door and continued gaping at her as he sat with his hands clasped in his lap.

Victoria started the car moving slowly.

"Were you waiting for the bus to the university?"

"Yes," he said.

He was young, barely more than twenty, she thought. Dear heavens. He was certainly safe -- and certainly interested. Or was he merely surprised that a tousled blonde in a quilted pink robe and blue pyjamas and slippers would stop for him?

"You oughtn't to be out in this rain," she said.

"My bicycle is in the repair shop."

"You still oughtn't to be in the rain like this."

She guessed him to be the studious type, and that was good and safe. He was good-looking enough, with long brown hair wet with rain, an open face without guile, neatly dressed in jeans and a shirt and a jacket, all of course thoroughly soaked and clinging to his body. Victoria glanced at his clasped hands, wondering about the extent of his interest in her. His cheeks turned pink as she looked at him, and he tore his gaze from her to look straight ahead through the sweeping wipers.

She shifted her arms and allowed her robe to fall open a bit. "Do you like the university?"

"Yes," he said.

As if programmed by a computer, his head slowly turned until he was looking at her again.

She flashed him a smile, saw his cheeks were almost crimson now. He was wringing his hands in his lap. His nervousness amused her, intrigued her. Her own nervousness was vanishing. Her little escapade was turning out to be far more fun than she had imagined it would be. She reached her right hand inside the opening of her robe, scratched at the soft swell of her breast, let him clearly see the conical bulge only thinly covered by ice-blue nylon. He went very pale now, bit his lower lip and turned to look out the side window.

Victoria said: "I just dropped my husband off at the station. That's why I'm driving around practically undressed. Now I'm headed for a boring, rainy day at the house on my own, when I can think of many other things I'd rather be doing. I suppose you're the same. I suppose sometimes there are things you would rather be doing than listening to lectures. Isn't that so?"

His head slowly swiveled back. He could only manage to nod now, but eloquently. His hands squirmed in his lap, and Victoria realized he was desperate to conceal his erection -- or perhaps he was massaging himself, surreptitiously masturbating right there in front of her. The idea amused her.

No, the poor boy was just frightened, completely unused to flirtations from an older woman. Victoria knew she ought to take pity on him and put an end to it, but she was having such a deliciously good time. She adroitly elbowed her robe still farther open, giving him a view of her stomach thinly veiled in shimmering blue.

She said: "Where would you rather be instead of in a lecture room? What would you like to be doing on a rainy day like this?"

"Sometimes I play billiards."

Victoria laughed, bending forward and back over the steering wheel, while he watched her breasts jiggle with a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

"This is a day for snuggling," she said. "A day for snuggling in front of a fire with a girl. And don't tell me a handsome chap like you doesn't have a girl."

"But I don't."

"Oh dear." Victoria made a pouting mouth, and she saw him lick his lips and fidget about on the leather seat. A virgin, she thought. He had to be a virgin.

It was only a short distance to the university now. She would tease the very devil out of him, then turn him out of the warmth of her car, out of the warmth of her smile, into the cold, cold rain. She might never see it, but she would be certain he had a burning erection before she gave him her last dazzling look of longing and left him to wander dizzily off to the loo to play with his stiff prick. She slipped the robe off her left leg, heard his intake of breath at the sight of her thigh, and then she had to brake the car as bells rang and gates came down and a slow cargo train came into view.

They were alone, no one about, no other motorcars. She suddenly realized it was a perfect opportunity for some heavier flirtation, or a good stopping place for the whole thing. Victoria asked herself what Brenda would do in this situation, how Brenda might have acted in the last months of her married life, and, in answer to the question, she turned off the ignition and moved her body.

Her left arm went to the backrest of the front seat, her right to the steering wheel. She slid her left leg up on the seat until her knee was against the backrest, until her robe was wide open, and so were her legs.

The boy gaped at her, looked all around him in nervousness. Victoria was certain he was rubbing himself with the heel of his hand as he looked at her once again with his gaze directed straight at her crotch.

She allowed his eyes to dwell on her barely concealed sex before she said, "What are you staring at?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... I'm sorry."

She slouched lower on the seat, until the crotchband of her pyjamas outlined the bulge of her mons as clearly and provocatively as would a pair of blue bikini panties, and her voice was low and vibrant as she said: "Don't be sorry. Don't ever be sorry about looking at a woman's body. Actually, I like it."

He groaned, letting his shoulders slump, staring directly at her hidden sex with such abject longing that Victoria knew beyond the smallest doubt that there was nothing at all wrong with her body. She could excite this male from a yard away, melt him with a smile, fever him with a look at her sex, just as she had once been able to do with Sebastian years ago. If she could excite Sebastian that easily again... But just how excited was this boy? And just how much more exciting would it be for her to find out?

"What are you trying to hide?" she asked.

"N-Nothing." He looked up at her through his lashes as she smirked.

"You're hiding something with your hands."

"Nothing!"

She leaned forward, distracting him entirely with the bobbing thrust of her breasts, her nipples stiff and surely visible through the nylon. She gently but firmly drew his hands away from his lap.

"Look at that," she murmured, acting even more interested then she really was, then taking the bold step of smoothing the tips of two fingers over the outline of his prick bulging hard against the wet blue denim. "You're randy," she said. "That's lovely." It excited her to touch him, a stranger, a defiance of convention, and she enjoyed it. "And you call that nothing?"

"I didn't mean... I was just..."

She squeezed his hard penis between thumb and forefinger, felt its heat, savored the excitement glowing in her belly. He was rock hard. She felt wicked and wonderful. "Are you always going about with a big stiff thing like this?"

"I'm sorry... I--"

"Don't be." And she gave his prick a good firm squeeze and shake, reveling in the confused excitement she was so easily provoking in him, and feeling excitement herself. "Don't be sorry for this when you're around a woman. It's flattering to her. If she's any kind of woman, she likes it. I like it. I like holding your cock in my hand, feeling it all hot and hard and ready to... ready to squirt. It excites me. Do you understand that? It excites me, you know."

She continued to play with his prick, to tease him. The train rumbled on, and his breathing became even more labored as she unbuckled his belt and tugged at his zipper and finally drew the wet fabric of his jeans down far enough to reveal the head of his penis and the wetness forming at the tip of it. The glans looked red, shiny, succulent. Sebastian, that unappreciating former love of her life, would no doubt have a stroke if he saw her now. Brenda would clap her on the back and say bravo, but Sebastian would have a stroke. And yet what was her infidelity? Not very much, in absolute terms. She had hardly touched this boy. She trailed her hand over his thigh, leaned back against the door and told him to bring his cock out.

"W-What? Here?" He gazed around wide-eyed, his face red.

Victoria looked around too, at the creeping line of train cars, and she nodded and said, "Right here in front of God and everyone." And she opened the top button of her pyjama top.

He watched every small movement of her fingers as he fumbled at the front of his jeans. Whenever his fingers stalled, her own fingers stopped moving, and immediately he resumed the exposure she had demanded of him. She did not want him to stop. She wanted to feast her eyes on a strange penis, and almost as much, she wanted to show him her breasts naked and warm and as proudly upright as her swiftly renewing feminine ego.

She murmured: "Bring it out. Show it to me. Bring it out of those stuffy old jeans and hold it in your hand for me." She parted her pyjama top widely and placed her hands on the round underswells of her breasts, lifted them and fondled them, drew the pink nipples out to firmer points with her fingers. She pursed her lips and made a sound of admiration when he finally brought his cock out completely.

She thought his penis poignantly beautiful. All she could see of it over his closed fist was the bulbous head, pink, its little vertical mouth gaping and wet. Yes, it was beautiful, so pure, that she felt close to tears again.

"Oh dear," she said. She edged closer to him, the movement drawing the blue nylon tighter over the bulge of her sex. She extended fluttering fingers for him, for his stiff penis. "So pretty," she murmured, and he squirmed and gasped when she touched him. She felt the soft, velvety glans, felt the excitement throbbing in his penis, the excitement that she alone had aroused. "Feel nice?" she asked, and nudged his hand away. She felt breathless when she saw the slim white column of the shaft. Then she tingled with marvelously wicked delight when she felt his hand tentatively touching her breast. "Oh yes," she hissed, and pushed her breast into his hand. She squeezed and slowly milked his cock with a firm grasp, smiling at him, feeling like an alluring temptress.

Suddenly the boy gasped, squeezed her breast painfully hard, then doubled over and rocked back and forth. He gasped and moaned and pawed weakly at her hand as his penis erupted with long thick spurts of white. As her hand went out of control, milking his prick faster, harder, her breath grew ragged and urgent."Yes, that's right, love. Can't stop, can you? I want to see it all come out, all of it."

He groaned. He looked as if he were about to faint. As the jets of sperm inevitably diminished, even though his penis stayed marvelously hard in her flying hand, he wilted, sighing and moaning, but still gazing at her with all the adoration in his eyes that had been missing from her life for so long. He had sperm all over himself, on his shirt and jacket and jeans, all over his penis and drooling down over her hand. She kept right on milking him, more sensuously now, gazing in fascination at his prick while her hand coaxed the last sweet oozings from it.

He moaned. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

"I told you, don't be," she said, rubbing the slick wet sperm all over his penis, rubbing it in, squeezing its slippery length through her fingers. "You couldn't help it. I just made you too hot and bothered, love."

"But I wanted to... I thought you wanted me to..."

"To what, darling?" She reached lower to gently fondle his tight hairless balls. Then she drew her hand back wet with his fine fresh juices and luxuriously fondled her breasts with it. "What did you want to do, love?"

"I wanted to..."

"Can't you say it?" She slid her hands down to mold the long slender shape of her waist and hooked her thumbs in the elastic waistband of her pyjama bottoms. "What did you want to do?"

"You know what," he said, his hand moving to his cock, his eyes limpid as he watched her lift and wriggle her buttocks and work the blue nylon down over her white hips.

"Can't you say it?" She wriggled and writhed, sensuously peeling her pyjama bottoms away to expose herself to his hot eyes. "Can't you say what you want to do?"

"I want to fuck you," he said.

The gate bells suddenly started up, and she cursed. The gate lifted as the last car of the train went bundling along out of sight.

Chapter 2.

Victoria knew it was crazy. It was wild. It was an escapade worthy of Brenda at her libertine best. The rain was coming down hard in sheets now as Victoria drove the streets of Bromley, her robe and pyjama top wide open, pyjama bottoms down around her hips, a university student at her side with his prick sticking out of his trousers and his hands groping with unbridled excitement at her exposed flesh.

He was so inexperienced, so aroused that he did not know where to touch her. He merely pawed at her. It was his excitement, not his hands, that caused her own excitement, an excitement she controlled with what she thought was admirable aplomb. She kept in complete command of the motorcar, she observed all the traffic laws, and as difficult as it was, she spoke in melodiously silken tones, well-calculated to send warm shivers through the boy's loins.

"Don't be so rough, darling. Wherever will we find a place to park? Oh, I just love your hands on me. Do you still have a stiff one? Oh, yes, and doesn't it feel nice. Use your lips on my breasts, darling, not just your hands. Oh, that's lovely. You're driving me slightly insane. Kiss me down lower, darling. Yes, on my tummy. Careful, I have to steer, you know. You have my breasts tingling. Do you like kissing my tummy? Do I smell nice for you? Dear God, where will I ever find a place to park in all this rain?"

The boy scrambled around on the seat like a beserk puppy dog. Victoria found it positively delicious. His trousers had come down to show his round buttocks outlined in wet briefs. He seemed not even aware of it. She had him so excited they could have been in High Street in front of the cathedral at high noon and he would not have stopped. He could not have stopped. And all she was doing now was laughing softly and rubbing his head.

"You like it down there, do you? Is it nice and warm, love? Do I smell sweet and sexy? Mmm, that's it. Yes, that's the way. She opened her legs and pushed down -- hard -- until his mouth and nose were mashed against the mound of her sex. She was all but laughing out loud at his struggles, until she realized he was struggling to get up, not down.

She let go of the boy's head, and he sat up panting and blinking rapidly. She suppressed a glare, smiled and said: "What's the matter, darling? Don't you like my fanny?"

"I... For a moment, I couldn't breathe."

"Can't have you fainting on me, can I?" She slipped her hand around his cock again and found it almost as hard as before. "Not when I need you most. Where do the students usually park? We need a place with a bit of privacy. I would take you to my house, but my neighbor is at home during the day. We need a place where we won't be bothered by anyone while you kiss my fanny and get me as worked up as you are. And then you can fuck me."

The color of his cheeks changed several times as she spoke those words. Then he went pale as she said: