Eighteen
Rolf had imagined that their honeymoon would be two solid weeks of orgiastic bliss. After all, he and Trixie were hot for each other and there’d be no external interruptions. Penny might restrict their freedom to make love by day, but there’d be nothing to keep them apart at night.
He soon learned that a lusty man and a passionate woman can go to bed, alone, and things can still come between them and love-making, things that he could never have predicted. There’d been jet-lag coupled with booze. There’d been a sore ankle and pain-killers. And then there were emotional problems and misunderstandings, mainly caused by his own stupidity. He did get nights of uninhibited love, but only three of them out of the fourteen he’d counted on.
Penny managed to get them into Man Ray, Johnny Depp’s restaurant, on a Friday, when it’s transformed into a dance club. Penny danced a lot but both Rolf and Trixie felt out of place and preferred to watch. Rolf made the mistake of letting his eyes linger for too long on a diminutive oriental girl who gyrated in a spotlight wearing a tiny black-net tent dress over nothing but her golden skin.
Trixie started with ‘I don’t care how many women you ogle, Rolf Carmichael, but that’s a child! She can’t be a day over fourteen. What are you, some sort of secret paedophile?’
‘I beg your pardon! I wasn’t ogling, and if she weren’t of age, she wouldn’t be allowed in here.’
‘Should I be worried about leaving Penny alone with you, Rolf?’
That hurt, mainly because it was something he was worried about himself. They sulked until two in the morning and then dragged Penny away from her fun. That night, they used both of the double beds in their room.
The next day they ‘did’ the Musée Rodin in the morning. Trixie was disappointed that there weren’t more erotic nudes, like The Kiss. They left much earlier than Penny had planned so they took a double-decker bus tour in the afternoon.
At supper in their hotel’s restaurant, Trixie told Penny, ‘You’ve brought books to read, I hope. If not, I’m sure you’d be interested in watching French TV. I hear there are some good shows on tonight.’
Penny tossed her platinum ponytail disdainfully. ‘Sure there are. I’ve always wanted to watch old black-and-white westerns, dubbed, and there’s a Jerry Lewis marathon that runs till dawn. Whoopee!’
‘Penny!’
‘I get it, Mom, I get it. You and Rolf want some steamy alone-time. I guess I can survive on my own for a night. Maybe I’ll go clubbing and pick myself up a suave French stud, perhaps a pied noir.’
In a flat tone, Rolf said, ‘No you won’t.’
‘Joking – just joking. I’ll be fine, honest. I could do with some time away from you love-birds, anyway. You two are so sweet, you make my teeth ache.’
The ice that the hotel’s machines dispensed was in spheres and half the size Rolf was used to. Trixie sent him to fill a bucket for them to take to bed. When he was back and in bed, she appeared from the bathroom fully made-up but naked, and tossed the bedclothes off him.
‘On your back, please, Rolf? Hands by your sides? Can you just lay there, doing absolutely nothing, unless I tell you?’
‘I can, but remember the last time? I don’t want to . . .’
‘Don’t worry, Lover. It’s going to be a very long, very hard, night, I promise.’
She picked up the ice-bucket and climbed onto the bed to sit astride his chest with her knees clamping his arms to his sides and her sex warm and wet on his skin.
‘Nice view,’ he commented, looking up her breasts.
‘I’ll make it even better.’ She hollowed her back, pushing her breasts forward, and picked up a ball of ice. Her left hand held her left breast. Her right rubbed ice round and round her nipple, turning it into a rigid spike. ‘Fuck, but it’s cold, Lover. It’s like ice needles, stabbing into me. I can feel it biting right down deep into my poor boob. See how stiff it makes my nipple, Rolf? I’m hard and numb. Will you defrost it for me, please?’
She curled her body, bringing her chilled nipple down to his lips. He sucked ice-water off her engorged nub and mumbled it into his mouth to suck on, hollowing his cheeks as he drew.
‘The pain of the cold is such a turn on, Lover, but it’s the defrosting that melts me inside. If we’re ever cold to each other, Rolf, remember that, will you?
She sat up, plucking Rolf’s treat from his lips, and selected another sphere of ice. Trixie rose high, pubes pushed forward, so that her pussy was directly above Rolf’s face. Two fingers of her left hand parted her sex’s lips and pulled them up and back, exposing both the pink inner surfaces of her outer lips and the unsheathed tip of her engorged clitoris. When she pressed ice onto that exposed polyp, her entire body cringed.
‘It’s unbearable,’ she exclaimed. ‘Well, almost unbearable. I can take it, just. It hurts like hell, but I can take it.’ After a few shivering moments, she slid the ice down between her sex’s lips, to where she opened, and pressed the ball into herself. When she let go, her pussy’s lips held it, three-quarters inside her, with just a new-moon sliver showing.
Trixie walked forward on her knees and lowered herself, presenting the ice to Rolf’s lips. With a giggle, she teased, ‘Try a Trixie-pussy daiquiri, Lover. I hope it’s to your taste.’
His tongue explored, trying to hook past the obstruction. Trixie squeezed. The melting ball was ejected into his mouth.
‘Taste good?’ she asked.
‘Mm.’ He crunched the ice between his teeth.
‘You’re supposed to suck, not chew, silly. Now I have to give you another one.’ Once more, the ice had to be rubbed on her clit and stroked down between her lips before her pussy held it and offered it to him. This time, he sucked it out and then pushed it back into her with his tongue.
‘Clever man, clever, clever man,’ she gasped. ‘I’ve never been fucked with an ice ball before, Lover. I do like to try new things, don’t you?’
He nodded with the ice held between his teeth, rubbing it on the inner surfaces of her splayed labia.
‘Keep still,’ she said, and dismounted him. While he watched, she worked three balls of ice into herself, one at a time. He reached out to stroke her hip but she batted his hand aside. ‘Be patient. This game is only just begun.’
She bent over his hips and rubbed her cheek on his cock. ‘Nice and stiff. Good.’ Her hands scooped ice-balls from the bucket. Trixie clamped a double-handful of ice to his burning shaft. ‘Is it cold, Rolf? My nipple managed to stand it. So did my clit. Can your cock do the same? Can it, Rolf?’
It was cold, much colder than he’d have been comfortable with under different circumstances, but it was far from unbearable. She massaged. The numbness crept deeper. Rolf’s main concern was that he might lose his erection, but ice couldn’t compete with the proximity of Trixie’s lips, even if he couldn’t feel the gentle pecks she treated his cock’s head to from time to time.
‘The ice inside me has melted,’ she announced. ‘That means it’s time.’
‘Time for?’
‘This.’
She threw a leg across him and lowered herself, steering his cock towards her pussy. ‘You thought I was pretty hot stuff, didn’t you, Rolf. Well, right now, I’ve got the coldest damn cunt you are ever going to fuck, Lover.’
Once more, her crudity shocked him but excited him at the same time. Trixie was so damned hot! A woman who talked like that – a man could do anything to, no matter how taboo. She’d stripped herself naked in front of him, not just her body, but her animal self, her libido. That took incredible courage.
He saw, but didn’t feel, his cock meet her pussy’s flaccid lips, part them, and sink into her depths. Trixie worked down until her pubes were pressed against his. He gave a little upwards jerk.
‘No, Lover. I’ll do all the moving, please. For now, we’ll just wait and let ourselves thaw out. Concentrate on feeling it, OK?’ She stared down at him.
Rolf read love and lust and soaring happiness in her eyes. It occurred to him that acts of passion that some people might think perverted could be expressions of the purest, most intense, love. What he felt for Trixie, at that moment, and what he was sure she felt for him, transcended any emotion he’d ever felt before. Tears came to his eyes.
‘Did I hurt you, Lover?’ Trixie asked.
‘No. I’m just so happy.’
She grinned. ‘Good. That’s the way I intend to keep you, my man, my special man, so happy that it hurts.’
Feeling slowly returned to his cock. He twitched it. She gave him an answering squeeze. Her hips moved, just a little, rocking on him.
‘My nipples,’ she said. ‘Play with them, please.’
He pulled his arms out from under her and reached up to toy with her cool stiff nubs, coaxing warmth into them. She dipped into the ice bucket again. One ball was for pressing against her clit. Two more she accommodated by leaning forward, reaching back, and wedging them in the cleft of her bottom, against his scrotum.
‘I’ll never come with ice on my balls,’ he observed.
‘Nor me, with my clit frozen. It’s going to be a long night, Lover.’
And it was.
The next morning the women let Rolf sleep in while they shopped on the Rue de la Paix, which Penny warned him was the most expensive street in the French version of Monopoly.
‘Rest up for tonight, Lover,’ Trixie told him. ‘It’s going to be a wild one. Shopping always makes me horny.’
The night started well, not kinky, but passionate, with breathless kisses and fervid caresses. Trixie inspected his cock again, eyes and fingers, taking her time. Rolf fondled Trixie’s outer pussy until its lips parted and wept and then he explored, learning her inner intricacies, probing deep.
She said, ‘Ouch,’ and jerked.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Did I hurt you?’
‘Your nails. When did you last have a manicure?’
‘Just a few days ago.’
‘Well, there’s a jagged edge there, somewhere.’
He curled his fingers so that his nails wouldn’t touch her and withdrew his hand. ‘You OK?’
‘I don’t think I’m bleeding but I don’t want anything inside me, Rolf, not now, not for tonight, just in case. If you really need it, I could give you a blow-job.’
He did need it, but he wasn’t going to say so, not when she offered like that, without lust, just out of pity. ‘I’m fine,’ he said.
‘I should be healed by tomorrow.’
‘And I’ll get another manicure.’
‘Thank you, Rolf.’
He did get a manicure, but he didn’t get the benefit. Trixie blew hot and cold. There was too much garlic, either in the potato salad or on the escargots they ate at a deli-restaurant for lunch. Trixie retired early, with an upset stomach. Out of consideration, Rolf slept in the other bed.
One night Trixie knelt, bum up, back hollowed, hands stretching her cheeks apart. Rolf took that as a request for analingus. He was willing, even eager. It was such an intimate, forbidden caress, that giving it and receiving it had to be strongly bonding. His tongue rimmed her and then probed and he felt her opening to him but he couldn’t get in as deeply as he’d imagined he would. He settled for tongue-fucking her bottom shallowly but as hard as he could. She responded with delighted squeals, so he had to be doing it right. Assuming it naturally followed, he knelt up and pressed the head of his cock to her pucker.
‘No, Rolf! I don’t do that.’
‘But – on the phone . . .’
‘That was Yvette we pretended you were buggering, not me, if you remember. Didn’t I explain to you that we could do things in fantasy that we’d never do in real life? Didn’t I make that clear? Didn’t you understand that?’
‘But, that toy of yours, the long thin one . . .’
‘That’s different, Rolf. Surely you can see that?’
He couldn’t, but he wasn’t going to say so. Women are sensitive to subtle nuances that men aren’t. He sat on his heels, not sure what to do next. Trixie rolled over, took his cock in her hand and jerked him off with a stroke that was fast and almost impersonal, or so it felt. Perhaps he imagined that.
And then there was the night they discussed Penny. After all, even if he’d never take the place of her dead father, he’d volunteered to take on some of the responsibilities of a parent. Trixie was concerned about the lingering effects of Penny’s teenage trauma. The way she saw it, a sensitive girl who’d almost been raped might go either way. It might make her frigid, unable to enjoy sex, ever, or it could make her promiscuous, over-compensating. Trixie didn’t want either for her daughter. Nor did Rolf. Trixie went over her daughter’s ordeal again, and again, adding details that he didn’t want to know about, just to make sure that he understood. They agreed that it was terrible but he was at a loss to see where their discussion was going. He wasn’t a shrink, but if Trixie thought that Penny should see one . . .?
That was an offensive suggestion. Only crazy people saw shrinks, and her Penny was far from crazy.
There was no sex for Rolf that night, not that he was in the mood for it, not after a long discussion about what swine men in general were.
He decided, or hoped at least, that once they got back to the States, into a normal life, with a routine, there’d be more sex, more love. Maybe he would get what he’d expected to get on his honeymoon, once their vacation was over.