Chapter 26 - Winter Wedding #25
KIRSTIE
Steadying myself on Ryan’s shoulders, knees sying, I lower myself, sliding down easily onto him.
The head of his cock nudges at my entrance, but as I’m about to take him inside myself…
“Ah-ah… No, you don’t. Not yet.”
“Ryan…”
“You might be on top, but I’m in charge. I’ll fuck you when I’m good and ready. And that’s not yet.”
“Ryan…”
“No, raise yourself again. I want to see you… No, not like that… Kneel all the way up. Arms up too.
Reach for the ceiling.”
Obediently, I raise my arms. Water and froth stream down my skin, trickling down my neck, through my
cleavage, over my belly.
Ryan leans back, takes his champagne ss, dewy with chill, and sips. “That’s a handsome sight, I
have to say. My beautiful, new, naked wife.” He raises the ss. “Want some?”
“Hmmm, please.”
He raises it further, to my mouth, tilts the ss, lets me drink. “That’s enough for now. Don’t want to
waste it.”
Puzzled, I look down. “Wha…?”
“As you were, Kirstie. Arms raised.”
Pussy purrs and clutches.
Again, I obey him. Ryan sips from the ss once more, then refills it. Ice clinks as he takes the bottle
from the silver bucket, clinks again as he reces it. “You look good like that. Your waist tight. Your
breasts raised.”
His gaze scorches over my body, but stretching out his hand, still holding the ss, he draws it over my
breast, tracing a line of iced dew over the nipple.
Gasping, I waver, trying to drop…
“No! Hold your position… That’s better.”
Shuddering and quaking, trying to remain upright, I whimper as frozen fire circles my nipple. A droplet
trickles down, kissing a line down my breastbone.
“You look good, Kirstie. Really good.”
The ss moves, hovering over my other breast. Ryan’s eyes smoulder dark. He sucks at his lips, then
brushes over the skin, twirling the ss in his fingers, swiping a cial kiss over already swollen
crinkled nipple.
Again, I gasp.
“You chose this, Kirstie. You wanted to be on top. Now you have it… Hmmm…” He takes the ss,
looking it over. “It’s losing its chill. Can’t be having that. Let’s try something else.”
He tips the ss to his mouth, this time taking not a sip, but a gulp. But he doesn’t swallow, instead
swishing it around. “That’s my mouth good and cold. But that’s not all of it…” Holding the flute to the
hollow of my neck, he tilts the ss, oh, so carefully, and chilled champagne trickles down my
breastbone, through the valley of my breasts and over my belly…
I can’t keep it inside. “Aaaahhhh…”
Ryan merely smiles, moving the ss down, then pausing. “It’s empty. But that’s not a problem.”
Dipping the ss into the ice bucket, he draws it out, filled with ice-water. For good measure, he fishes
out an ice cube, plopping it into the ss. “That should do nicely.”
His right hand holds the ss, hovering over my belly, but his eyes flick sidelong, eye pointing where
the left hand dips into the bucket. “I’m sure, Kirstie, that you know where those fingers will be going
soon…”
“Oh… God…”
“… but not yet. I’m still enjoying myself. I’d like to lick you out, but I think I’d drown one or other of us if I
tried. No matter. This is almost as good. Better in some ways. I have a better view.” The ss tilts,
tipping cial water over my navel, to flow down my belly, dribbling into the dark curls at the vee of my
thighs.
“Christ!” Lurching forward, my arms fling down and out. “Ryan, I…”
“Back up where you belong, Kirstie...”
I’m trying to obey, but the chill water is trickling between my thighs, seeping into my swollen folds, with
a promise to my pulsing clit.
“… Knees further apart, if you please. You know where I want to be now.”
“Ryan, I can’t hold this position.”
“Rest your hands on my shoulders, if you must. But you have to stay upright.” His eyes gleam… “If
there is something that our time together has taught me, Kirstie, it is that there is nothing so delectable
as the sight of a woman in sexual torment… You in sexual torment… And I intend to see the benefits of
my efforts.”
“Ryan, I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me.”
“Oh, I shall. But not yet. Ach…” He whips his left hand, dripping, out from the bucket, stretching and
flexing the fingers. “Y’know, that aches, when it’s a real deep-down chill. You lose all sense of
feeling…”
He waves fingers white with cold by my face, briefly touching my cheek and sending another sh of
electricity sizzling through to my core. “… but it’s all in a good cause… Now… Let’s find out how you’re
doing down there.”
He draws fingers down over my belly: icicles that make my skin shiver, my flesh quiver and, as he
follows a line down between my thighs, my pussy clench.
“Ryan, no… I can’t stand it…”
His lips twitch. “Oh, I think you can.”
The fingers slide inexorably inward, parting swollen lips… Cold. Frigid against my heating folds. The
moan that escapes me quavers through the air.
“That’s good, Kirstie. So good. You’re hot down there. So hot. So ready for me.”
He’s not wrong. Two fingers, index and middle, I think, scissor around my swollen clit, making a slow
back-and-forth… To-and-fro… Squeezing and releasing… Pinching and rxing. “Thought I’d give you
a massage.”
ConTEent bel0ngs to N?v(e)lD/rama(.)Org .
“You call that massage?” His touch sears over my pulsing clit. Wet heat scalds down inside my thighs.
Hyper-sensitive, teeth gritting, I’m trying for self-control. Thighs quaking, my bones liquefying, I want to
drop onto him, take him inside me and fuck myself, and him, senseless. I can’t keep still. All of itself,
my pelvis jerks and twitches.
Those frozen fingers slide inwardly once more, slipping through flesh throbbing with heat. I buck.
Ryan reaches inside the bucket… “If you don’t stay still…” … fishes out an ice-cube, holding it up for
me to see… “… I’ll use this on you. Would you like that?”
The ice glints, a candle me refracting through it, somehow burning inside its arctic prison. A bead of
water gathers, elongates and drops, falling in slow motion, to be swallowed by a sea of white foam.
“I don’t think I could stand it.”
“Then do as you’re told and stay still.” He tosses the ice back into the bucket, then holds up the fingers
that held it. “Nice and chilly again. Let’s make the most of that, shall we.”
In a kind of horrified-rhapsodic fascination I follow the fingers as slowly, inexorably, they move down,
between my thighs. I know what’sing. Inside, anticipating, I’m clenching already.
It doesn’t feel cold. It doesn’t feel hot. It simply feels. Ryan reaches up and inside, prating me with
two, maybe three fingers. His chocte-eyed gaze is locked with mine, but I squeeze my eyes closed. I
think he’s twisting around inside me, spiralling against the inner muscle, stretching me open, but it’s
hard to be sure. My world is all sensation: intense, freezing, burning, bitter chill, scorching heat…
I can’t tell the difference. In the heart of my seething arousal, there is no difference.
“You’re too hot, Kirstie. You’re warming my hand. We’d better not take too much time over this, eh?”
He thrusts up. It’s not much, not hard, but I don’t need much. My self-control fails entirely and I spasm
and gush. Liquid heat scalds from me and my belly convulses.
Ryan gives a low chuckle. “Now look what you’ve done, Kirstie. All over my hand. It’s as well we’re in
the bath.” But he’s pumping me now. His thumb joins the party, rubbing over my clit.
“That’s it my girl. I want to watch youing on my hand. After that, we’ll see about youing on my
cock.”
He flexes his arm, angling himself. The other handes around me, holding me behind by my wet
ass. Holding me to himself, his face pressed sidelong against my stomach, he rubs inside me, my front
wall, my g-spot…
Orgasm hits me like a freight train. Explosively, I Come.
Am I screaming?
Maybe…
My cunt pulses ecstatically, clenching and clutching at the torturing fingers, spilling hot. My belly pulses
and my legs would give way were it not for Ryan’s supporting grip on my hips.
“Stop, Ryan. Stop. Please stop.”
The fingers still, but don’t withdraw. And I’m not out of climax yet, my stomach muscles still fluttering,
my thighs not yet willing to support me again.
The yammering in my chest subsides and abruptly, I have air again.