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November 2018

Fire and Ice

by J G Cain

He loomed over her, bottle of bourbon in his hand. He pulled the cork out of the bottle with his teeth.

“That’s hot,” she said.

“What’s hot?”

“Pulling the cork out with your teeth. You look like a pirate.”

“Arggg,” he said.

He theatrically spit the cork out onto the floor. A giddy smile spread across her face. He took a slug and kept the liquor in his mouth and haphazardly dropped the open bottle back onto the bedside table, where it wobbled for one long agonizing moment but did not spill.

It was expensive bourbon. He was glad it did not spill.

He lowered himself onto her and kissed her, letting the sharp amber trickle into her mouth, feeding it to her as it leaked off his lips and tongue. She shivered at the taste of it.

He made his way down her body with hot glacial slowness, biting her so that she could feel the sharp burn of the liquor where teeth met skin. The elegant white curve of her neck. Down to the meat of her tits. He lingered on each nipple, biting and pulling, letting the fire of the alcohol inflame her thickening flesh. He moved lower, trailing bourbon, letting a small pool form in her belly button before lapping it back up.

By the time he got to her pussy his mouth was emptied. He raised himself onto his knees.

“I am on fire,” he told her.

“Don’t make a fuel of yourself,” she replied, and they both began laughing, amazed this ancient childhood joke still held its power. It did not break the mood, but enhanced it, all aspects part of a larger whole: sex, humor, intellect, emotion. It was one thing. It was all things.

Their laughter calmed. Their smiles did not leave their faces.

He picked up a drinking glass from the over-crowded end-table. He opened the ice bucket, grabbed a fistful of ice, and dropped three cubes in, one at a time, each singing as it hit the glass. He picked up the bottle and poured the bourbon precisely over the ice. He took a drink and swallowed it down. He paused, letting the moment build.

She loved watching him as he towered over her, he knew. He loved watching her watching him. They found themselves momentarily lost in each other's gaze.

He took another drink and this time snagged an ice cube with his tongue while he filled his mouth with the stuff. He kneeled between her legs and began tracing her pussy lips with his cold tongue, coating them in bourbon, the smell of the liquor and her pussy combining into a scent he had never before experienced, never known to exist.

Perhaps it never had, until now.

He moved his mouth to her clit and with his tongue began massaging the hood directly with the ice until she began to squirm and mewl. He returned to her pussy lips and opened his own lips to allow the bourbon to seep into her pussy. She moaned loudly in response.

He took the cube, maneuvered it to the tip of his tongue with his lips and began to slide the ice into her wet canal, the warmth of her pussy in sharp contrast to the fierce cold of the ice. Melting ice flowed past his lips, forming a cold rivulet running down the slope of her skin.

Her body began to tremble, waves of contracting muscles rolling like rough seas. He clutched the cheeks of her ass and pulled her pussy tighter against his mouth, his tongue probing deeper. She responded by grabbing the back of his head, wanting more. His tongue at full extension, his lips massaging hers: she cried out and her legs locked around his neck and her body twisted in ecstasy. The last bit of ice vanished on the cold tip of his tongue. He felt her juices sluicing against the melt, running into his mouth, spilling down his cheeks and chin, baptizing him in a flood of love and heat and the hazy thrall of wonder.

About J G Cain
J G Cain's work has been published in Boston Phoenix, New York Press, Wild Musette, Bare Back, Camas: The Nature of the West, Fiction at Work, Six Sentences, Everyday Weirdness, The Greyrock Review, Bellowing Ark, tomlit, CRATE, Java Journal, and Clifton. I also has a children's play included in the anthology CHILDSPLAY, in the company of such authors as Sam Shepard and Maya Angelou.

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November 2018

Fire and Ice

About J G Cain﻿

on Twitter @ barebackmag

About J G Cain