A few months after the German occupation of France in June 1940, Emilio Vargas, an émigré carpenter of Andalusian heritage who had moved to Carcassone in the early 1930s to seek work, decided to return to Spain with his French wife of two years, Elise, who was then eight months pregnant with their first child. Under cover of darkness, in late November 1940, they left their home and made their journey south in their rapidly deteriorating and unreliable Citroën Traction Avant, which finally gave up the ghost in the spa town of Bagnères-de - Luchon, close to the French-Spanish border. From there they made their way, with ever increasing difficulty, and largely on foot, over the Pyrenees, crossing the border into Spain. During one night of the crossing, the temperature plummeted; far below normal and far below zero. The snow fell, heavy and unrelenting, bitterly blown by a fierce, icy wind which cut through their bones like frozen steel. In sight of Pico Aneto, Elise suddenly went into labour. It was there, chilled to her soul, that she gave birth to her first child, a daughter. Miraculously both Elise and her child survived, though barely. They named the girl Hielo; an eternal reminder of her frozen entrance into the world.
The family eventually made their way to Andalusia, where Hielo grew up in the small town where her father had been born. She had inherited her mother’s sleek, long chestnut hair, hazel eyes and high cheekbones. She was both quiet and reserved by nature, but everyone who met her sensed there was more inside her. It was as though the ice into which she had been born had somehow frozen something inside her, but nobody could say what that might be. At the age of eighteen she found work as a librarian, which seemed to suit her placid nature. Eventually, she met and married a man named Alejandro, who worked at a local vineyard, which produced arguably the finest Oloroso in Spain.
From the outset of their marriage, their lives were both modest and routine. Although Alejandro loved Hielo, their lovemaking had never been anything other than unadventurous and increasingly sporadic. Alejandro had come to accept things. He had initially suggested to Hielo that they try for a baby, but she had resisted, advancing any number of excuses against it: they were too young, they were still, relatively, too poor, that maybe next year the time would be better.
Four or so years after their marriage, a warm spring turned into an arid, throat-cracking summer. Andalusia was used to very hot summers, but as the weeks and months passed, the sun just seemed to burn its fierce anger over the already rugged and oven-baked arid landscape of the south west. No rain fell for months, and only the crazy, foolhardy or those whose employment depended on it ventured into the daytime heat which roasted and cracked the earth with ruthless intensity. There seemed to be no respite, day or night; no shade or shadow could offer any solace. Day after sweat-drenched day Alejandro would come home, his body and clothing viscous, soaked with perspiration.
The searing, swollen heat began to affect Alejandro’s mood. He became restless and irritable. As his blood warmed in his veins, for whatever reason so did his lust, which began to rise within him and become ever more urgent. What he was usually able to control became increasingly uncontrollable. However, as Alejandro’s sexual desires rose in the sweltering heat, what little passion Hielo possessed correspondingly seemed to evaporate, melting away in the rippling streams of baked air which seemed to envelop the world in a shimmering, disorientating haze.
One suffocatingly humid and airless evening, Alejandro came home from the vineyard, the extent of his unsatisfied desires both inflaming and frustrating him in equal measure. He sat in silence opposite Hielo at the kitchen table, sipping shallow spoonfuls of gazpacho, taking mouthfuls of tepid white wine from a superficially cracked glass, and from time to time sighing deeply and audibly. Hielo, dressed in an austere, front-buttoning long black dress which dropped all the way to her ankles, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, sat quietly, eating her soup. Every so often she would hear Alejandro’s sighing, look up at him, and deliver a cold, frozen look of disapproval, until at one point Alejandro could take it no longer.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he bellowed, slamming his spoon down on the table. “Did someone return their books late to the library or something?” Hielo continued to stare at him. For a moment, Alejandro felt almost as though she was a stranger to him, but his frustration continued to boil and well within him.
“I don’t know, Hielo. What has made you this way? Can you answer that? For months now you haven’t wanted to smile, let alone......” His voice dropped but his words seemed to hang heavy in the heat.
“Let alone what?” retorted Hielo, her eyes suddenly frozen over. “Go on. Finish it!.” Alejandro felt as though he was now in a battle.
“Fuck,” he said, spitting the word out. “You haven’t wanted to fuck. For god’s sake, look at you! Sat there, dressed in black like a widow, as though someone has just died.” He sat back in his chair and sighed. “The truth is, something has died, Hielo. Us. We’ve died.”
Having spent his emotion, Alejandro sighed again. Without saying a word, Hielo got up from her chair, turned and walked out of the kitchen, her heels tap-tapping against the wooden floor like a metronome. Alejandro watched her disappear out of the kitchen and up the stairs, before succumbing to the emotion and humidity and falling asleep on the kitchen chair.
He was woken from his slumber by the sudden sensation of something wet and lukewarm hitting his face. Still in the half-grip of a dream, he shook his face and instinctively tried to raise his hands to his face to wipe the liquid off. Half intoxicated by sleep, and as though in a form of sleep paralysis, he found he couldn’t lift his hands from the wooden arms of the kitchen chair he was sat on. His eyes were stinging slightly, and as his senses began to rouse he could smell the odour of wine. He again tried to move his hands, but they were held fast to the arm of the chair. He tried to stand, to find his feet similarly gripped to the legs of the chair.
“Hielo!” he shouted at the top of his voice. “Hielo.”
Before he ever saw her, he heard her. He heard the sound of heels against the wooden floor. He called her again, but there was no reply. He was now clenching his eyelids together and trying to open them. Eventually he began to be able to make out shapes and movement, at first an almost colourless blur. The shapes began to take form, slowly, until eventually he was able to see Hielo, stood in front of him. He could also see his hands were bound tight by rope to the arms of the chair. Likewise his ankles to its sturdy legs.
“Hielo, what the fuck is going on?” Hielo was stood, impassively watching him. After a few moments, she began to slowly unbutton the front of her dress, staring into his eyes with frozen impassivity.
“You,” she said in a kind of cold, unfeeling tone, the like of which he had never heard fall from her lips before, “are pathetic.” She continued to unbutton her dress, one by one.
“Hielo, please. What is going on?” His head was a mess of recently interrupted sleep and confusion.
“Let me ask you,” she growled, her voice dark rough like the side of a wooden wine barrel. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“What do you mean, what the fuck is wrong with me?”
“You don’t know me at all, do you Alejandro?” The buttons of her dress now all open to the waist, she eased her shoulders back and allowed her dress to fall from them. Alejandro watched as it cascaded like a dark dream down her body and to the floor. As it did so, Alejandro saw his wife, stood in front of him, wearing a black and scarlet basque which was holding sheer black stockings from shining slices of black ribbon.
The family eventually made their way to Andalusia, where Hielo grew up in the small town where her father had been born. She had inherited her mother’s sleek, long chestnut hair, hazel eyes and high cheekbones. She was both quiet and reserved by nature, but everyone who met her sensed there was more inside her. It was as though the ice into which she had been born had somehow frozen something inside her, but nobody could say what that might be. At the age of eighteen she found work as a librarian, which seemed to suit her placid nature. Eventually, she met and married a man named Alejandro, who worked at a local vineyard, which produced arguably the finest Oloroso in Spain.
From the outset of their marriage, their lives were both modest and routine. Although Alejandro loved Hielo, their lovemaking had never been anything other than unadventurous and increasingly sporadic. Alejandro had come to accept things. He had initially suggested to Hielo that they try for a baby, but she had resisted, advancing any number of excuses against it: they were too young, they were still, relatively, too poor, that maybe next year the time would be better.
Four or so years after their marriage, a warm spring turned into an arid, throat-cracking summer. Andalusia was used to very hot summers, but as the weeks and months passed, the sun just seemed to burn its fierce anger over the already rugged and oven-baked arid landscape of the south west. No rain fell for months, and only the crazy, foolhardy or those whose employment depended on it ventured into the daytime heat which roasted and cracked the earth with ruthless intensity. There seemed to be no respite, day or night; no shade or shadow could offer any solace. Day after sweat-drenched day Alejandro would come home, his body and clothing viscous, soaked with perspiration.
The searing, swollen heat began to affect Alejandro’s mood. He became restless and irritable. As his blood warmed in his veins, for whatever reason so did his lust, which began to rise within him and become ever more urgent. What he was usually able to control became increasingly uncontrollable. However, as Alejandro’s sexual desires rose in the sweltering heat, what little passion Hielo possessed correspondingly seemed to evaporate, melting away in the rippling streams of baked air which seemed to envelop the world in a shimmering, disorientating haze.
One suffocatingly humid and airless evening, Alejandro came home from the vineyard, the extent of his unsatisfied desires both inflaming and frustrating him in equal measure. He sat in silence opposite Hielo at the kitchen table, sipping shallow spoonfuls of gazpacho, taking mouthfuls of tepid white wine from a superficially cracked glass, and from time to time sighing deeply and audibly. Hielo, dressed in an austere, front-buttoning long black dress which dropped all the way to her ankles, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, sat quietly, eating her soup. Every so often she would hear Alejandro’s sighing, look up at him, and deliver a cold, frozen look of disapproval, until at one point Alejandro could take it no longer.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he bellowed, slamming his spoon down on the table. “Did someone return their books late to the library or something?” Hielo continued to stare at him. For a moment, Alejandro felt almost as though she was a stranger to him, but his frustration continued to boil and well within him.
“I don’t know, Hielo. What has made you this way? Can you answer that? For months now you haven’t wanted to smile, let alone......” His voice dropped but his words seemed to hang heavy in the heat.
“Let alone what?” retorted Hielo, her eyes suddenly frozen over. “Go on. Finish it!.” Alejandro felt as though he was now in a battle.
“Fuck,” he said, spitting the word out. “You haven’t wanted to fuck. For god’s sake, look at you! Sat there, dressed in black like a widow, as though someone has just died.” He sat back in his chair and sighed. “The truth is, something has died, Hielo. Us. We’ve died.”
Having spent his emotion, Alejandro sighed again. Without saying a word, Hielo got up from her chair, turned and walked out of the kitchen, her heels tap-tapping against the wooden floor like a metronome. Alejandro watched her disappear out of the kitchen and up the stairs, before succumbing to the emotion and humidity and falling asleep on the kitchen chair.
He was woken from his slumber by the sudden sensation of something wet and lukewarm hitting his face. Still in the half-grip of a dream, he shook his face and instinctively tried to raise his hands to his face to wipe the liquid off. Half intoxicated by sleep, and as though in a form of sleep paralysis, he found he couldn’t lift his hands from the wooden arms of the kitchen chair he was sat on. His eyes were stinging slightly, and as his senses began to rouse he could smell the odour of wine. He again tried to move his hands, but they were held fast to the arm of the chair. He tried to stand, to find his feet similarly gripped to the legs of the chair.
“Hielo!” he shouted at the top of his voice. “Hielo.”
Before he ever saw her, he heard her. He heard the sound of heels against the wooden floor. He called her again, but there was no reply. He was now clenching his eyelids together and trying to open them. Eventually he began to be able to make out shapes and movement, at first an almost colourless blur. The shapes began to take form, slowly, until eventually he was able to see Hielo, stood in front of him. He could also see his hands were bound tight by rope to the arms of the chair. Likewise his ankles to its sturdy legs.
“Hielo, what the fuck is going on?” Hielo was stood, impassively watching him. After a few moments, she began to slowly unbutton the front of her dress, staring into his eyes with frozen impassivity.
“You,” she said in a kind of cold, unfeeling tone, the like of which he had never heard fall from her lips before, “are pathetic.” She continued to unbutton her dress, one by one.
“Hielo, please. What is going on?” His head was a mess of recently interrupted sleep and confusion.
“Let me ask you,” she growled, her voice dark rough like the side of a wooden wine barrel. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“What do you mean, what the fuck is wrong with me?”
“You don’t know me at all, do you Alejandro?” The buttons of her dress now all open to the waist, she eased her shoulders back and allowed her dress to fall from them. Alejandro watched as it cascaded like a dark dream down her body and to the floor. As it did so, Alejandro saw his wife, stood in front of him, wearing a black and scarlet basque which was holding sheer black stockings from shining slices of black ribbon.
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Her black lace panties barely covered her sex. Her slender, shapely legs, from feet to mid thigh were encased in black leather boots with slim, high heels, that lightly tapped ‘sex’ into the wooden floor with every movement.
“Hielo. Untie me, please, and let’s talk.”
“Oh, I intend to talk, Alejandro. And you are going to listen,” she purred. “You think you know me so well, don’t you? You say I don’t want to.......fuck. That was the word, wasn’t it? Shall I say it again for you? Fuck.....fuck......fuck.” Alejandro had never heard Hielo use the word before. Each time she spat it out, slowly, seductively, he felt his length move within his trousers, jerking into life.
“Oh, I want to.....fuck, Alejandro. You have no idea.” She eased herself onto the kitchen chair opposite him, parted her legs and allowed her fingers to caress up and down her thighs, scratching the gently with her nails.
“Yes, I want to.....fuck. And plenty of men want to fuck me too, Alejandro. Did you know that?” The corners of her soft mouth turned up into a half smile. “Every day I see men. They are looking at me, and do you know what they are thinking, Alejandro?” He shook his head, but emotions were beginning to burn as hot and confused inside him as the humid air in the kitchen. Hielo leaned forward, her eyes burning intently into his. “They are thinking ‘I want to get my hard, aching cock into her tight.......wet, dirty little pussy and fuck her like the hot.........needy.......wanton little slut that she is.” As she spoke, she ran her fingers over the lightly bronzed, silk smooth skin at the top of her thigh and dragged them over the delicate fabric of her panties.
“Oh yes, Alejandro. That’s what they think.” Alejandro was now an emotional cauldron, his emotions bubbling within him and running out of control.
“And do know what I think when I see them looking, Alejandro? I think, ‘I would really love to slip your warm, hard cock out of your trousers and suck it in my hot, wet mouth until your hot, sticky cum fills it and warms my throat’. That’s what I think, Alejandro. I want to suck their needy, stiff cocks..” Alejandro’s eyes darkened with every word.
“And sometimes I think ‘While I am sucking you, maybe you have a friend who would like to part my legs and slide his thick length inside me, and fuck me deep and hard.’ Strangers, Alejandro. Fucking me. Fucking your lovely little wife. Can you imagine it, Alejandro?”
As she finished her words, Alejandro began to writhe and wriggle against his restraints, trying to loosen the rope that was holding him fast. The chair lifted up and down, banging on the floor. As he did so, Hielo slowly eased her bottom from her chair and began to lower her panties. Slowly, she slipped them over her feet, rolled them up into a ball, stood up and walked across to where Alejandro was still struggling.
“I’m tired of listening to you, Alejandro,” she said, leaning forward and pressing the little ball of rolled up lace into his mouth. “Talk is all you ever do. I suspect even my manager at the library could give me a harder, more satisfying fuck than you. Maybe he’d like to take me from behind against the bookshelves and ram his cock between my legs. I imagine he lies in his bed at night imagining himself doing it, stroking his smooth length until he is screaming out my name. I often think I’d really love to slip his softening, slick cock into my mouth then and clean him up. I’m sure he’d soon get hard enough to slide it inside me, don’t you think?”
Alejandro’s senses were filled with Hielo’s scent. He could taste her on his tongue. He could smell her sex. Hielo smiled again, and slowly began to firstly unfasten his belt, then his trousers. In one move she pulled his trousers sharply down. Alejandro’s length, full of fire and long-unfulfilled lust, sprang out and pointed angrily at her, accusing her.
“Well, well,” she said. “I wonder what brought this on? The thought of your sweet, faithful wife fucking other men? Maybe I should bring one back and let him fuck me on the kitchen table? What do you think?” With that she slid two fingers between her pink, engorged lips and pushed them deep within her, her face exuding exquisite pleasure at her self-penetration. “Fuck, that feels good,” she said. After several thrusts with her fingers, she withdrew them and slowly brought them to Alejandro’s nostrils, allowing him to breathe the scent of her.
Slowly she moved her hand to the ropes that were binding Alejandro’s wrists. She untied the knot, but left the rope wrapped around his wrist, then proceeded to do the same to the other one. Alejandro struggled and strained to pull his hands out of the ropes, which loosened but only gradually. Hielo moved herself back, and rested her bottom against the kitchen table. She looked at Alejandro, struggling to free himself.
“Yes, Alejandro,” she teased, sliding her fingers back between her drenched sex,. “I’d fuck any man who wanted me. Right here, on this table. I’d let him take his cock out and fuck me until he came. And........maybe I do.” She leant back fully on the kitchen table and spread her legs, her fingers twisting and delving inside herself. With each thrust of her fingers her moans became louder. “God, yes. He’s fucking me. He’s got such a hard, insatiable cock, Alejandro.”
Alejandro was burning his wrists against the rope as he pulled and pulled to get them free. Eventually, one hand came free, then the other. Like a man possessed he began working on the ropes that were binding his ankles. His cock was now rigid and angry, his mind a chaos of lust, jealousy and need. Hielo had wrapped her fingers around the half-empty bottle of wine that was on the table, had brought the neck to the lips of her pussy and in one movement slid it easily inside her. She moaned the word ‘Fuck’, over and over as she worked the warm neck in and out of herself.
Alejandro finally freed his ankles and stood up quickly. His legs buckled a little under him from the way he had been bound. Then, in a blaze of uncontrollable lust, he moved to the kitchen table where he pulled the neck of the bottle from Hielo’s grip, causing her to squeal in disappointment that the flow of her pleasure had been broken. In one move, Alejandro pulled the front of Hielo’s basque down, to reveal her swollen breasts and engorged pink nipples. He poured the remainder of the wine from the bottle over her glistening breasts, and moved his desperate cock between Hielo’s legs. In one angry movement he thrust himself deep inside her and moaned aloud as he felt her suck him in and her pussy walls tighten around his thick length. Hielo moved her hands to her breasts and slid them around in the wine, causing her nipples to harden yet further. Between her legs she felt Alejandro began to ram her with his cock, his fullness reaching deep inside her. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He felt the heels of her boots dig into his buttocks, and then again, driving him on.
“Your wife is a whore, Alejandro,” she moaned. “What is she?”
“A whore,” he replied, his lust out of control. “You are a whore; a sweet, dirty little fucking whore.”
“I can never get enough cock, Alejandro,” she teased. “I crave it. I need it. I need to be fucked and stretched, and to feel hot cum released in waves inside me.”
Her words filled his mind. He fucked her. He fucked her harder than he had ever fucked her. He rolled her over, spread her legs, and entered her again, his slightly curved length touching parts of her she had never experienced.
“Fuck me, god fuck me,” she begged ever more loudly, as he ploughed into her over and over. Then, in the heat and sultry sweat of release, they came together, their moans mingling and filling the room. Alejandro collapsed, exhausted and drenched in perspiration, onto Hielo’s back, kissing her neck. At that moment he realised he loved her more than life itself.
From ice, comes heat. They are separated by degrees, but carry the same fire. Nine months later, Hielo presented Alejandro with a daughter. They named her Calidez.
“Hielo. Untie me, please, and let’s talk.”
“Oh, I intend to talk, Alejandro. And you are going to listen,” she purred. “You think you know me so well, don’t you? You say I don’t want to.......fuck. That was the word, wasn’t it? Shall I say it again for you? Fuck.....fuck......fuck.” Alejandro had never heard Hielo use the word before. Each time she spat it out, slowly, seductively, he felt his length move within his trousers, jerking into life.
“Oh, I want to.....fuck, Alejandro. You have no idea.” She eased herself onto the kitchen chair opposite him, parted her legs and allowed her fingers to caress up and down her thighs, scratching the gently with her nails.
“Yes, I want to.....fuck. And plenty of men want to fuck me too, Alejandro. Did you know that?” The corners of her soft mouth turned up into a half smile. “Every day I see men. They are looking at me, and do you know what they are thinking, Alejandro?” He shook his head, but emotions were beginning to burn as hot and confused inside him as the humid air in the kitchen. Hielo leaned forward, her eyes burning intently into his. “They are thinking ‘I want to get my hard, aching cock into her tight.......wet, dirty little pussy and fuck her like the hot.........needy.......wanton little slut that she is.” As she spoke, she ran her fingers over the lightly bronzed, silk smooth skin at the top of her thigh and dragged them over the delicate fabric of her panties.
“Oh yes, Alejandro. That’s what they think.” Alejandro was now an emotional cauldron, his emotions bubbling within him and running out of control.
“And do know what I think when I see them looking, Alejandro? I think, ‘I would really love to slip your warm, hard cock out of your trousers and suck it in my hot, wet mouth until your hot, sticky cum fills it and warms my throat’. That’s what I think, Alejandro. I want to suck their needy, stiff cocks..” Alejandro’s eyes darkened with every word.
“And sometimes I think ‘While I am sucking you, maybe you have a friend who would like to part my legs and slide his thick length inside me, and fuck me deep and hard.’ Strangers, Alejandro. Fucking me. Fucking your lovely little wife. Can you imagine it, Alejandro?”
As she finished her words, Alejandro began to writhe and wriggle against his restraints, trying to loosen the rope that was holding him fast. The chair lifted up and down, banging on the floor. As he did so, Hielo slowly eased her bottom from her chair and began to lower her panties. Slowly, she slipped them over her feet, rolled them up into a ball, stood up and walked across to where Alejandro was still struggling.
“I’m tired of listening to you, Alejandro,” she said, leaning forward and pressing the little ball of rolled up lace into his mouth. “Talk is all you ever do. I suspect even my manager at the library could give me a harder, more satisfying fuck than you. Maybe he’d like to take me from behind against the bookshelves and ram his cock between my legs. I imagine he lies in his bed at night imagining himself doing it, stroking his smooth length until he is screaming out my name. I often think I’d really love to slip his softening, slick cock into my mouth then and clean him up. I’m sure he’d soon get hard enough to slide it inside me, don’t you think?”
Alejandro’s senses were filled with Hielo’s scent. He could taste her on his tongue. He could smell her sex. Hielo smiled again, and slowly began to firstly unfasten his belt, then his trousers. In one move she pulled his trousers sharply down. Alejandro’s length, full of fire and long-unfulfilled lust, sprang out and pointed angrily at her, accusing her.
“Well, well,” she said. “I wonder what brought this on? The thought of your sweet, faithful wife fucking other men? Maybe I should bring one back and let him fuck me on the kitchen table? What do you think?” With that she slid two fingers between her pink, engorged lips and pushed them deep within her, her face exuding exquisite pleasure at her self-penetration. “Fuck, that feels good,” she said. After several thrusts with her fingers, she withdrew them and slowly brought them to Alejandro’s nostrils, allowing him to breathe the scent of her.
Slowly she moved her hand to the ropes that were binding Alejandro’s wrists. She untied the knot, but left the rope wrapped around his wrist, then proceeded to do the same to the other one. Alejandro struggled and strained to pull his hands out of the ropes, which loosened but only gradually. Hielo moved herself back, and rested her bottom against the kitchen table. She looked at Alejandro, struggling to free himself.
“Yes, Alejandro,” she teased, sliding her fingers back between her drenched sex,. “I’d fuck any man who wanted me. Right here, on this table. I’d let him take his cock out and fuck me until he came. And........maybe I do.” She leant back fully on the kitchen table and spread her legs, her fingers twisting and delving inside herself. With each thrust of her fingers her moans became louder. “God, yes. He’s fucking me. He’s got such a hard, insatiable cock, Alejandro.”
Alejandro was burning his wrists against the rope as he pulled and pulled to get them free. Eventually, one hand came free, then the other. Like a man possessed he began working on the ropes that were binding his ankles. His cock was now rigid and angry, his mind a chaos of lust, jealousy and need. Hielo had wrapped her fingers around the half-empty bottle of wine that was on the table, had brought the neck to the lips of her pussy and in one movement slid it easily inside her. She moaned the word ‘Fuck’, over and over as she worked the warm neck in and out of herself.
Alejandro finally freed his ankles and stood up quickly. His legs buckled a little under him from the way he had been bound. Then, in a blaze of uncontrollable lust, he moved to the kitchen table where he pulled the neck of the bottle from Hielo’s grip, causing her to squeal in disappointment that the flow of her pleasure had been broken. In one move, Alejandro pulled the front of Hielo’s basque down, to reveal her swollen breasts and engorged pink nipples. He poured the remainder of the wine from the bottle over her glistening breasts, and moved his desperate cock between Hielo’s legs. In one angry movement he thrust himself deep inside her and moaned aloud as he felt her suck him in and her pussy walls tighten around his thick length. Hielo moved her hands to her breasts and slid them around in the wine, causing her nipples to harden yet further. Between her legs she felt Alejandro began to ram her with his cock, his fullness reaching deep inside her. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He felt the heels of her boots dig into his buttocks, and then again, driving him on.
“Your wife is a whore, Alejandro,” she moaned. “What is she?”
“A whore,” he replied, his lust out of control. “You are a whore; a sweet, dirty little fucking whore.”
“I can never get enough cock, Alejandro,” she teased. “I crave it. I need it. I need to be fucked and stretched, and to feel hot cum released in waves inside me.”
Her words filled his mind. He fucked her. He fucked her harder than he had ever fucked her. He rolled her over, spread her legs, and entered her again, his slightly curved length touching parts of her she had never experienced.
“Fuck me, god fuck me,” she begged ever more loudly, as he ploughed into her over and over. Then, in the heat and sultry sweat of release, they came together, their moans mingling and filling the room. Alejandro collapsed, exhausted and drenched in perspiration, onto Hielo’s back, kissing her neck. At that moment he realised he loved her more than life itself.
From ice, comes heat. They are separated by degrees, but carry the same fire. Nine months later, Hielo presented Alejandro with a daughter. They named her Calidez.
