Fire and Ice

"Do you like licking a woman's fanny? Are you good at it?"

He looked away, swallowed hard. Before he could speak, Victoria squeezed his prick warmly, and said, "I can tell you'll be good at it from the way you kissed my breasts, lover, from the way you sucked my nipples. Do that again now, darling, while I concentrate on finding us a good place to park."

It was madness, insanity. And cruelty, too. She knew she had no right to use this naive boy to salve her damaged ego, to rebuild her crumbled feminine confidence. It was Sebastian who had wounded her, and she ought not to take it out on this innocent young man. He had to be innocent. He seemed not to have any experience with women at all. She told herself the fleeting rewards of her flesh simply were not enough to pay him for the hurt she might be causing him for something Sebastian had done to her. Or had not done to her. Christ, she had not felt Sebastian's lips on her nipples for ages, months, and as clumsy as this boy's lips were, they were better than no lips at all. Was she really hurting him? Nonsense. He was sucking away like a hungry kitten, happy as could be, happy as Sebastian was with whatever woman he had found to be his playmate. Oh, she had no doubts about Sebastian. She knew the sexual urgency of Sebastian's body, and she knew that no matter what sort of trouble she had with him, the trouble would not stop him from having his fucking. For the first time, Victoria admitted to herself that Sebastian had to be having an affair with another woman, perhaps more than one. Sebastian might be twenty years older than this boy, but he was no different. If an attractive woman would smile at Sebastian, he would jump into her motorcar as quickly as this boy had jumped. But by now Sebastian would have his cock in the woman, not just his lips at her nipple. Men and boys are all alike, Victoria told herself. She swung the motorcar in to the curb. They were in a residential area, not unlike her own neighborhood. Housewives and children in the houses. But they did not matter. Tomcats like Sebastian did not care where they had their fun, and neither did alley-cats like herself.

She sat up, and she kissed the boy's swollen lips as she took hold of his prick again. She felt him trembling. He tasted faintly of toothpaste. She slipped her tongue into his mouth, and felt his penis stiffen and throb. She teased and coaxed his tongue into life with hers, then leaned back against the door and smiled languidly at him. Her right hand fondled her breast, slid down over her belly, and on down inside her pyjamas to cup her sex.

"Mmm. You've got me all ready for your kisses, love. My fanny is all wet and waiting for your tongue." In fact, she was barely moist, her labia tensed, her vagina barely open enough to accept a finger. "Are you ready for my fanny?"

He nodded. "Well... yes."

"You're going to be good at it, aren't you? I'm a woman who likes to warm up with five or six orgasms before a man slips his cock into me for the big one."

She was amazed at herself. Was this really Victoria Spence talking like this? Had she gone insane? But did it really matter?

She said: "Look how ready I am." And she removed her hand from her sex and waved her fingers under his nostrils, brushed them over his quaking lips, and chuckled at the way his eyelids fluttered. He was as excited as a butterfly on a hot summer day, and just about as dangerous. If only she could twist Sebastian around her fingers so easily. But Sebastian was far away, and this boy was right here.

She took the boy's hand and kissed it, guided it to his cock and murmured: "Keep that good and hard for us while I get out of these silly pyjama bottoms."

He sat there and masturbated, slowly and methodically, while she did a cramped but sensuous striptease. It was truly amazing to her. She had never watched a man masturbate before. That was a very private thing to do, and yet there he was wanking right in front of her, obeying her every wish, all in return for the promise of a bit more of her. She gave it to him, and quite effectively.

She pretended the blue nylon pyjamas were even tighter than they actually were. She raised her hips and shifted her buttocks around, thumbs hooked in the elastic, slowly working the flimsy material down until his eyes could see her thin blonde pubic hair and his hand could be further inspired. She merely gave him a glimpse of her sex, relishing the way he licked his lips as she squirmed about working the pyjama legs down her thighs. He could see her sex hair and the bulge of her mound, but not the slit he longed for. She scissored her calves and kicked her feet out of the pyjama bottoms. Again, he looked as if he might faint, and she brought him around by laughing and lightly flicking the blue nylon against his face.

"I hope you won't be late at the university, love." She smoothed her hands down over her thighs, at last opening her legs and feeling a heady thrill of excitement as he looked right at the open red lips of her sex.

He was mesmerized. His hand stopped moving.

She smiled. "Does that look good to you?" She slid her hand over her belly, through the fine fur to part her labia wider with two fingers. "Does it look good enough to eat?"

"I -- I guess so."

"What do you mean, you guess so?" She bulged out her pearl-pink clitoris with her fingers, tilting her hips up to meet her hand. "You do like to do that, don't you?"

"Well... yes."

"You're a liar, aren't you?" She grabbed the hair of his head and shook him. "You've never done it before in your life, have you?"

He whimpered. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry."

Victoria tried to control the hot rage that had flared up in her. She slapped him across the face. "Damned liar, you and all the others. You can't tell the truth, you can't be honest." Men wanted a wife and a mother and a mistress all rolled up into one, and they could not even be honest with a woman. Damn them. Damn you, Sebastian. She slapped the boy again.

She started sobbing, contrition replacing her rage. She hugged the boy to her bosom, clasped his head in her hands. She told herself she should not be angry at him. She would make it better. She urged him to kiss her breasts. "That's right. Poor baby. Poor loving baby. Take one my tits in your mouth."

He mumbled against her breasts, told her he would do it, he wanted to lick her, then attempted to crouch lower on the seat as if to get at her.

Victoria hugged him to her breast and spoke soft words to him. Her sex had an itch in it, and when she reached down to scratch it, she found it wet, amazingly so, full of creamy sex juice that had not been there seconds before. Her fingers did not do a bit of good. After a quick glance around through the rain-smeared windows, she pushed the boy's head down to her crotch, breathing rapidly, murmuring, "Go on, love. Get down there and kiss it. I don't care if you know how or not. Yes. Oh, yes!"

His trembling mouth fumbled and foraged in her pubic hair. She jammed his head lower and jerked her hips up to slide her clitoris against his pursed lips. She made a sound like a wild cat, a sound she had never made before, and she spread her legs wider and pushed his head down harder on her steaming sex.

Bastard Sebastian, she thought. To make her do a thing like this. But she craved it. Let him eat it, suck on it. She had gone this far, she might as well make it good.

She was orgasming. She had not orgasmed in months. The orgasms came one after the other as she rhythmically humped her hips upward and rocked her head back and forth against the window- wall. Her hair whipped across her contorted face. She had two good handfuls of the boy's hair, and with this she pressed his mouth harder still against her wet spasming sex, thrusting up at him at the same time, one leg hooked over the backrest, the other foot flat on the seat.

Yes, it was lovely. She would not let him stop now. She gasped. She slid down across the seat, her head bumping against the arm-rest, her gushing cunt bumping up against his face.

It was good. It was marvelous. Even his inexperience seemed to be adding to her pleasures as orgasm after orgasm burst in her body. She had been frustrated far too long. Her pleasures seemed more intense than any she had known in her life, and she knew in her heart they would never stop, and they made her weep with joy. She lay on her back on the car seat with tears flowing down her cheeks, writhing sensuously against the clinging leather, roving her hands over her body. This boy loved her, really loved her, the way he crouched down between her widely parted legs and lapped and sucked and tongued her flooded sex. He was a darling. Yes, love me, she thought. Make me feel like a woman again. Every hair on her body seemed to be standing on end and feeling the orgasms. She felt blind and deaf and dumb. She silently cried out in open-mouthed ecstasy as skyrockets shot through her body. She had become pure sensation. All she could do was feel, and the orgasms went on even when he lifted his mouth from her swollen sex.

She was certain her climaxes had never been this good before. She could place herself in no other time but the present. Her body was reaching for more, when suddenly the boy's body came down heavily on hers and his cock stabbed frantically at her open, fluttering sex.

He showed a panicked urgency. He grunted and panted like a dog, rasping her naked body with his clothes, then penetrating her vagina with his hard penis.

"No!" she cried. She futily beat at his back with her fists, tried to kick him with her legs, but her legs were too widely separated. "No, stop! You can't do this to me! Stop it!"

Her commands no longer worked. He was mad with lust, frantic to jab his prick in her warm sex. It was he who was deaf now, and apparently unfeeling as well, as she beat at him and screamed at him, not diminishing his frenzied efforts at all.

His animal gruntings went on, reaching a crescendo that made her need to expel his thrusting penis from her vagina even more urgent. But then it was too late, far too late. His body went rigid and trembled as he continued thrusting. He was quite unable to stop what was happening. She went limp, turned her head from his heavy sighing, and found that she was weeping again.

It did not bother him. He jumped up grinning, as if he had achieved a major accomplishment, and he began to rearrange his clothing.

He left her to drag herself to a sitting position. She tried to hide her body in the folds of her robe.

"That was marvelous," the boy said. "I didn't hurt you, did I? Are you crying because I hurt you? No, it can't be. Listen, could I telephone you now and then? Would that be possible?"

Victoria fumed. "Get out of this car. Get out of this car immediately, before I hurt you."

He stared at her as though she were insane. Then he shrugged and got out, went hurrying off through the dwindling rain, leaving Victoria to her tears.

Chapter 3.

"Darling, getting rogered is nothing to cry about," Brenda said.. "Scads of housewives have affairs every day, and you can't expect all the affairs to be just perfect, especially the first time out. Relax, darling, and look forward to a better time the next go round."

Victoria grimaced. "He was a total stranger. I don't know what got into me. I've never acted that way, or even talked that way in my entire life."

"What got into you was a young man, and if you ask me, it's about time. You're free to do as you want. You might be married to Sebastian, but he doesn't own you. I just wish you would tell me all the gory details. I can't believe you finally did it." And with this, Brenda threw back her head and laughed.

Laughter instead of shock; a typically unpredictable Brenda reaction. Brenda, it seemed, was liable to do just about anything. She looked as if she could, too. She was not quite as tall as Victoria, who was now seated at her dining-room table, but she looked imposingly larger. Brenda was twenty pounds heavier and considerably more busty, but it was the vibrant air of vitality about her that made her seem almost larger than life. She had auburn red hair professionally waved and piled high on her head each and every Thursday. It set off a rather long face, well-balanced with prominent cheekbones, a strong nose, and a wide mouth. Her lips were not as full as Victoria's, but they were very mobile and expressive and always glossy with carmine lipstick. Her brown eyes were shadowed with green, and her eyelashes were naturally long. Thin black brows swept back to point at the gold loops dangling from her ears. She had on a kelly-green chiffon dress with long sleeves and a short skirt. The dress clung to her amply curvaceous body rather intimately, and its bodice was cut into a low broad vee that showed the deep cleavage between her breasts and gave a glimpse of the lace-edged black bra that contained those breasts. Her legs were crossed under the stained oak table, gleaming in nylon stockings as she swung her foot, shod in a black high-heeled pump, to the tune of her stereo set. It was not yet ten o'clock in the morning, and Brenda was dressed to the nines, looking as if she were ready for a dinner date. She made Victoria feel even more like the teary little housewife that she was. And Victoria felt as if she was not even a good housewife, for her house next door was in a shambles when compared to the immaculate neatness of Brenda's beautifully furnished home.

True, Brenda had some help in the form of a man who came by once a week to care for her garden, and a woman who came twice a week to clean the house, but Brenda did do a fabulous job as a homemaker who was alone in the world. The Spences had only lived next door to her for the past seven months. Brenda had divorced her husband some six months before that. Victoria could only imagine what a good housekeeper Brenda had been when she was married; her house and garden were now the showplace of the road. The other wives largely shunned her, undoubtedly because they were jealous of her success as a single woman, and perhaps because they considered the strikingly lovely working woman a threat to their marriages. Victoria embraced Brenda as her only true friend in the neighborhood. The other wives were totally involved with their children, their husbands, and their little card parties. They were a clique that Victoria simply did not want to join, while Brenda was worldly and wise, always ready with a drink and some sound advice, able to talk politics and economics just like a man, but never once posing any serious threat toward Sebastian, not when Victoria and Sebastian had been getting along just beautifully, and not now. In turn, Brenda had no time whatsoever for the other wives in the road, and had casually selected Victoria as her only neighborhood friend. For the most part, this excluded Sebastian too. Brenda would joke and talk with him over the hedge on a weekend day, and she would invite him along with Victoria for a drink now and then, but she had so little real interest in Sebastian and so much in Victoria that at first Victoria had secretly suspected her next door neighbor of being a lesbian. This suspicion was quickly dispelled as they came to be intimates and Brenda told Victoria about some of her escapades with men.

Brenda worked evenings, Monday through Thursday, as a hostess in a London club she refused to name. Her job was all business to her, and she neither wanted to have friends dropping in there, nor wanted to make any friends from among the clientele of the club. It was a high-tipping job. It had to be to enable her to work just four evenings a week and earn enough money to keep her so well-dressed and in the lovely three-bedroom house. She made no male friends at her job, but she made up for that on the weekends.

Each Friday night was a warm-up for the following Saturday and sometimes Sunday. "Friday night is only the overture," Brenda had told Victoria with a smile. She had a dozen or so pubs she went to on Friday nights, nice pubs with dancing and a dining room, and in these places she would carefully select a man from among those who asked her to dance or offered to buy her a drink. She chose him for his affluence, for his looks, and for her evaluation of him in bed. This latter evaluation was usually quite accurate, if Brenda's accounts of her weekends were to be believed, and Victoria did believe them, for her next-door neighbor had absolutely no reason to lie to her. The advice Brenda gave Victoria might be unsound, her escapades with men might be exaggerated, but Victoria sincerely believed that the advice was sincere and the tales Brenda told were for the most part true. And now Brenda's advice seemed sound, but quite impossible to follow.

"Honestly, Victoria, it's not that monumental. What was it you did? Did you lose your virginity? Hardly. Did you get pregnant? Not if you're taking your pills like a good girl. Did you fall in love with the boy?"

"Brenda, don't be silly."

Brenda touched Victoria's cheek, and said: "Darling, all you did was have yourself a little poke on the side. It's just as much a woman's right to do that as it is a man's when things aren't going right at home and the hot little honeymoon bed has turned cold for a while. Just forget it and do better next time."

"There won't be a next time. It was just a... just an experiment, one that turned out very badly, and it certainly will not be repeated."

"Then what are you going to do? Just let yourself get all frustrated and wanting again? If you are, darling, I know where you can get an artificial cock. They come as big as you like."

Victoria smiled and shook her head. "Now it's easy to see where I picked up the language I used with that boy this morning."

"Oh? Are you blaming me? Well, go on. I have broad shoulders. I'll take some of the guilt off your hands if it helps you stop being such a ninny about all this."

"I'm sorry, Brenda. Oh dear, there I go apologizing."

"Apologize to your body, darling. Apologize for waiting so long to give it a bit of satisfaction. And don't wait as long for the next time. Be discreet, but go out and have a lark when you can."

"Honestly, Brenda, there won't be a next time."

"Oh? Are you going to turn things around between you and Sebastian, turn him into a passionate lover again overnight? Fat chance, darling. He's impotent. From what you've told me, he has what they call sexual dysfunction, and it takes more than an overnighter to cure that. It will probably take care of itself, in time, but meanwhile you must get out and take care of yourself."

Victoria firmly shook her head. "Once was more than enough. I didn't get a thing out of it. Really. No, I'll take that back. What I got out of it was a real and sincere desire to get Sebastian and myself back on an even keel. I'm going to work at getting our marriage back together now, in bed and out, and if it fails now, it certainly will not be my fault."

Brenda sighed. "New-leafing it, eh? Lord knows how many new leaves I turned over and how many years I wasted before I shed my husband. Go ahead if you want, but from what I know about you and Sebastian, it's a waste of time. Yes, he earns enough money, and yes, he can be charming and self-assured. Maybe he was lovely in the sack at one time, but once a man has slipped like he has, it's tough to bring him back to what he used to be. Have a go at it, give it a good try, but meanwhile have some fun when you can. Listen, I know men -- scads of them -- who would just love to show you a good time. Or maybe take you to Brighton, or even Paris. Would you turn up your pretty nose at a weekend in Paris, all expenses paid, and maybe enough money for a new dress thrown in?

"Maybe I could in a few months," Victoria said. "Maybe I'll cut loose like you did by then. But in the meantime I'm going to make a try at getting back what Sebastian and I had. Starting now. Thanks, Brenda. Thanks for listening to me for the hundredth time. I couldn't have gone home and faced my house all alone after what I did this morning. Now I can."