Thinking in Amy with Ice cube

In the past, I have liked to take an ice cube and gently slide it back and forth and across a girlfriend's breast, watching the nipple harden, listening to her whimper and gasp as the cold caused her bud to tighten, and she would instinctively try to squirm away despite being properly secured to the bedposts. I might then drag the ice cube across her skin, pausing to let the cold ice melt into her navel, ultimately sliding the cube down her sex and along her inner thighs. Even on a particularly hot Eygpt summer afternoon, she would react in very much the same way, attempting to squirm away as the cold beset her...

While I had previously read a few times about actually penetrating a woman with ice, I simply could not imagine myself actually doing that to anyone, especially not to anyone I truly cared for deeply. After all, I reasoned, ice upon the body can be very easily and quickly removed if necessary, whereas ice inside the body could be very difficult to retract in a hurry and could potentially create frostbite within her, and frostbite is certainly something I wanted to desperately avoid, especially in such a sensitive area of the body.

Admittedly, however, my view on ice play has changed greatly, based upon some recent experiences with a very special person who had professed a love of using ice (and anything cold) upon and especially inside her. Actually, to say that she loves having ice inside her is an extreme understatement.

In our regular, "mundane" sexual activity, she tends to be rather active and vocal. Her sirenic voice tugs at my heart as she whimpers and moans and cries out as sensation and pleasure overwhelm her senses. As a visually-oriented person, her near-constant writhing and twisting and bucking seizes my attention and allows me to connect with her on yet another level. When she is restrained, her propensity for perpetual movement is actually heightened, as she can then also struggle against the bonds, something she clearly enjoys.

Adding ice to our play takes our interactions to yet another level. Without question, she adores the sensation of cold within her, the interplay of cold and warm causing her body to writhe even more seductively, the chills created causing her to whimper and moan louder and more often. If she is bound when she has ice inside her, she pulls at her bonds with more intensity. And each successive ice cube I slip inside her causes her movements, her sounds, her passion to all rise exponentially; she says that "it's like being fucked from the inside out... being fucked by something that doesn't feel like anything..."

With ice melting slowly inside her, fucking her from the inside out, I will typically lay beside her, simply touching her, kissing her, holding her. If her limbs have full freedom of movement, she will typically wrap her arms and her legs around me, clutching me tightly, moving against me, bucking fast and hard, particularly if she has a lot of ice churning inside her. Especially if we roll so that she is upon me, she will drench me as the ice melts and first trickles from her body, then is expelled by the repeated spasms of her vagina in reaction to the cold sensations within her. And while one may think that she is having all the fun, I wholeheartedly enjoy it myself – I enjoy hearing her, watching her, feeling her moving against me, relishing the cool surges coat my crotch and my thighs, heightening her pleasure by touching her, kissing her, even helping her to move against my body.

However, there are of course "dangers" in ice play. As she effectively humped the air above my bed one night, the several ice cubes inside her being slowly stirred by my fingers, she suddenly announced, with concern: "I feel cold on the outside." Immediately, I stopped what I was doing and wrapped the bedspread over her, then lay beside her, outside the roll of the bedspread, and clutched her tightly to me to further warm her and comfort her. Still, she continued to move against me; still, she continued to cry out softly and lewdly. But that was effectively the end of our ice play for the night, as I was not about to add more ice into her body for fear of re-igniting the outer cold she had felt for that short period of time.

Another "danger" is related to the need for the melted ice to go somewhere eventually. Some of it is certainly expelled by her vaginal spasms, but since she is almost always horizontal when we play with ice, some of it flows further up into the torso, where it might remain for some time. Even well after our play has ended and we have dressed, a sudden unexpected flow of water may occasionally gush from her.

A third "danger," also the result of the melted ice needing to go somewhere eventually, is the inherent wet spot upon the bed. Actually, it is not so much a "wet spot" as a "wet pond," such is the footprint of her expelled excitement, especially after having used an entire tray's worth of ice cubes inside her. Further, the footprint typically saturates the bedspread, the sheets, and the mattress itself. Therefore, it is not necessarily a good idea to engage in ice play immediately before attempting to sleep in the same bed.

I believe it is safe to say that she has definitely turned me into an ice play enthusiast. Granted, my fun is not nearly as intense as hers, especially since I am not the one "being fucked from the inside out," but simply sharing the moment with her and caring for her throughout and beyond the experience increases my desire for her and is very fulfilling for me, drawing us ever closer together.