Chapter III What can be done with two ice cubes. The heat gradually filters through the room. No There is no doubt that

Chapter III What can be done with two ice cubes. The heat gradually filters through the room. No There is no doubt that this summer he is going to punish us mercilessly; putting tests our endurance against the psychological wear and tear of the whiff of warm air that we have to face. I watch you carefully... your breathing has become laborious, and some beads of sweat begin to populate your forehead. I head to the small kitchen, and enjoy the slow pleasure What does it mean to be able to relieve my dry throat with a little fresh water. I return to bed with my hands behind my back and a smile mischievous on the lips. I continue approaching until I sit next to you, and, with softness, I place a kiss on your lips; while furtively, I carry my hands from my back to yours. With a start you separate from me, at the same time I see An expression of surprise appears on your face. I am slowly describing small circles on the map of your skin with the pair of ice that I had in my hands. The ice slides gently down your previously tense back, with the same ease as butter melts on the surface. hot Teflon base of the pan. I decide to ascend your path back with my hands while I continue kissing you, and I bring them to your cheeks, previously burning, to the point warm. Your body appreciates the refreshing change in temperature, and I notice it in the decreasing rhythm of your pulses. I begin to descend through you neck, although I don't linger too long so as not to spoil your throat, and so reach your collarbones sooner. My hands continue running along the vertical line of your arms until our hands join and fingers intertwine in a warm embrace that imprisons the ice and its icy contact. The cold resumes its journey along the inner side of the arms until he returns to the base of your neck, mercilessly attacking his vulnerable skin and descending to the chest, traveling slowly but without pause, the valley that They make up your breasts, creating a small stream from the ice cream and liquid trail that the ice leaves when it melts. These begin to take paths different and border those two mountains in the lower area; continue and They continue timidly getting closer to the armpits, and then climbing those cusps that rise and fall in time with your breathing, which is it gets deeper and deeper. The icy torture reaches the top of your breasts; the extreme hardness of its crown is attacked without any mercy by the icy prisoners of my fingers while your kisses become more intense and agitated, as if wanting to pay with them for liberation from such torment; at the same time The current ice targets begin to stir and harden, as two volcanoes about to erupt. I begin the descent through your thorax reaching your hips, molding them with my cold touch, rising back to your diaphragm, to take the downward path again. while my left hand entertains itself by circling your navel, the right one rises to drop a couple of drops of thaw on the cavity of your abdomen. Then, both hands begin to run parallel to your thighs, your knees, your ankles... and then spend time on the instep of the feet and get lost between the fingers, the ice spilling part of its essence and his being; like a dying warrior, wounded by love and bleeding on the map of your body Breathing becomes deeper; the muscles, previously tense by thermal shock, they begin to relax... with the exception of your breasts upright, a product halfway between cold and excitement. They stand tall proud, hardened, defiant... challenging me to climb them, possess them, subdue them; provoking me to attack them with my lips as a weapon and, at the same time, pleading for protection against the icy threat that a few moments ago they tortured But the cold aggressors have not yet finished the invasion and conquest of the territory of your anatomy. The upward path through those two columns that support the temple of your body, give place on its flanks internal; The path they follow is obvious, the objective: that small cave hidden in the forest of your intimacy and from which we have all emerged, but never re-entered more than for a few moments and with only a small part of our being... The small, cold, wet fragments that were once two ice cubes, begin to travel the forbidden terrain of your groins, impregnating itself with your heat, filling you with slow and pleasant agony. Later, they get lost in the forest of your pubes, getting tangled, and sometimes being trapped between the hair that populates it. But in the end, the exhausted travelers find the entrance to your privacy, as if it were a treasure cave; entertaining in each and every detail of your entry; talking one on one with him guardian of the entrance, surrounding him and embracing him, and then in his extreme fearlessness, accessing the long-awaited goal, entering into you. You face contracts as your mouth draws the unmistakable expression of utter a cry; but no sound comes out of your throat... it is a silent scream of pain, cold pain. I stand above you wanting to extinguish the icy flames of your body with the loving warmth of mine, and, like the hero of any story, I came quickly to the rescue knowing what to do. I enter you and immediately observe the contrast of temperatures inside you. Little by little, I am covering with kisses the trail left by the ice while your breathing continues to agitate. The pendulum movement of me body on yours becomes more and more intense, while I feel how Your nails run over the skin of my back, your legs surround my pelvis, imprisoning me, as if wanting to avoid my departure at all costs; and your complaints breathy sounds invade my ears until there is no other sound in my mind. My hands slide over the entire map of your skin, exploring securely your body: from the mountain range of your chest, passing through the plain of your back, the sinuous curves of your hips... until you reach the forest pubiano and retrace the path in reverse. Just at that moment, when the icy torturers They end up falling apart, I burst into a pleasant, almost mystical torrent, pouring my soul, my being, into your interior; devastating and consuming completely any trace of cold that remained inside your body. So, exhausted and sweaty, I let myself fall next to you; feeling like a strange circle and mysterious would have been completed, knowing that you are part of me, as I I am from you...