Iced Flip Side

If I didn't get a good fuck in before tomorrow evening, Tonya and I would be out of the medals for sure. We'd come to the Paris Grand Prix with good hopes of standing on the platform, but my timing was all off in the twists and throws we'd attempted in our practice session tonight, and I knew it was because I was so jittery from not getting my rocks off since we'd been at Skate Canada a couple of weeks ago. I'd hunted all over the skating rink yesterday and today, but none of my usual fuck buddies were here, and I had no idea where to cruise for a quickie in Paris.

I sent Tonya off the ice before our practice time was up, telling her I was just off this evening and there was no use taking a chance on her getting hurt during a botched throw. I told her I'd continue practicing jumps on my own, trying to get rid of the jitters so I'd be straightened out before our short program competition tomorrow night. That's what I needed to be, straightened out and then drained of cum before tomorrow night. But I couldn't tell Tonya that. She knew I swung that way, of course, but she didn't know how much I depended on sex to keep my strength and timing up.

So, Tonya skated off to the locker rooms, and I continued practicing all alone in the gloomy practice rink. I had no idea who had the practice time following mine, but I could have shouted for joy when I saw the French silver medal holder, Andre Larreau, skate out onto the ice and start his warm-ups. A sweet little piece of blond ass, Andre had turned eighteen a few weeks ago, which now made him free game. My fuck buddies and I had even speculated on who was going to get the first crack at him, and now here he was, gliding his tight little butt cheeks around on the ice in this deserted practice ice rink and batting his long eyelashes at me in invitation, and me in a bad way for sex, the very definition of the lighted match meeting the can of petrol.

Wasting no time, I stripped off my practice T and skated back into the center of the ice. I was in great shape and my skin-tight practice leotard basket showed off not only my great length and thickness but also my immediate need, so I knew if Andre was at all serious underneath that teasing that had driven several of us crazy for the two years he'd been skating professionally, he'd take the bait.

And take the bait he did. We started out pretending at least to be into our individual practice regimes, but our eyes were glued to each other in an undeniable mating dance. Andre skated over to the boards and stripped off his practice T, feigning that the heat was getting to him, but we both knew that I and my magnificent body and obvious need were getting to him. When he glided back onto the ice, our routines came into synch and drew together into ever tighter circles, until, in a cloud of ice shavings, we both stopped dead, facing each other, very close. Both of our chests were heaving from the intensity of the syncopated ice dance. I leaned my head down to the much shorter, more compact solo skater, and he tilted his head up, meeting my lips with his. Our tongues entwined, and I found he had a knob-headed stud in his tongue. I thrilled in anticipation of how I would make use of the stud and laughed to myself at the similar surprise the French youngster was in for.

With one hand on his butt and the other on the small of his back, I arched Andre's torso back and attacked his pert little erect nipples with my lips and teeth, leaving him in no doubt about my need and my intention to ravish his body. He was giving little yips of pleasure and pain and buried his fingers in my hair, giving at least token indication of trying to pull me off him. But his fingers slipped away, as I lifted him off the ice and slid his body up mine while moving my lips and teeth down to his belly and navel, which was pierced with a gold ring that got a workout from my tongue, teeth, and lips.

I let him slide down my body onto the ice and pulled his face into my crotch.

"Suck me," I said, "And then I'm going to fuck you." I had no idea whether or not he understood the English I'd used, knowing for certain he wouldn't understand Russian, but he must have gotten my drift, because he pulled my leotard down to below my pelvis and gasped when he saw my surprise. I had a silver ring with a round knob on it pierced into the helmet of my dick. I felt him shudder as he began to work on my cock, mesmerized not only by the opportunities the cock piercing offered but also by the quickly engorging length and thickness of me.

I didn't give him much time to think about what was happening, though, because my main goal was to get my rocks off and win a medal at the Paris Grand Prix. As it was, I let him work my cock in his mouth longer than I had intended, because that stud on his tongue running along the underside of my cock was sending chills up and down my spine. However, in short order, I had pulled Andre back up to where I could lock my mouth onto his. He wrapped his legs around me above my hips, and I skated over to where the boards broke to accommodate a judges' table.

Flipping Andre around, I laid him on the table chest down, pulled his leotard down to his knees, and went for his asshole with my tongue. With one hand on the small of Andre's back, I held him down on the table. The other hand explored his cock and balls and gave them some appreciated attention.

Quickly, though, I had Andre's ass wetted with my tongue and widened with my roaming fingers, and I crouched up and over him and got the helmet of my cock into his ass opening. Andre whimpered and complained under me as I worked to gain entry, and the whimpers increased to gasps of pain and objection as I pushed into him a few inches. I stopped, giving his ass canal a chance to adjust to the size of my cock, and then, punctuated by his exclamations in French, I pushed on in to the hilt. The objections turned to moans and sighs and more accommodating French phrases, as his tight little ass opened to me and I began to slowly pump him.

I dug my hands into his pecs and pulled him up to me. He turned his head, and we kissed. He looked at me in a dreamy expression and spoke for the first time in a thick English.

"The cock stud," he said. "The feeling."

"You like?" I asked.

"Yes, I like very much," he said. "Please. Can you fuck harder?"

"Sure," I said, although I didn't respond immediately. I twisted his torso so that I could get my teeth at one of his nipples, and he gasped and moaned at the attention I gave him there.

After a few minutes, I let his torso descend back onto the table top. I wanted to twist him around and fuck him from the front. In my urgency and realizing that I wouldn't be able to strip off Andre's practice leotard over his skates, I lifted my own skate-clad foot and neatly and carefully sliced through the crotch of his pants, freeing his legs. I slowly spun him around on the table top then on my buried cock, turn him on his back and lifting his legs in the air with my hands. His hands fluttered up my torso, and I began to deep fuck him. He was letting out little yelps of pleasure and whispering sweet nothings to me in French. He began jerking himself off, which was just as well, because this was all about sexual release for me to bring my performance on the ice to its peak, not about any need he had.

When I was about to cum, I pulled out of him and shot off across his belly and up into his pecs. I buried a fist into his long blond hair, lifted his head to mine, and gave him what I had intended to be one last, deep, brutal kiss. But, while we kissed, Andre's hands went to my cock and pulled me back into him. His hands went to my butt cheeks, holding me inside him, and he writhed under me and his lips flew over my chest and into my pits. He was nipping me and rolling that tongue stud over my flesh. He wrapped his strong legs around me, below my buttocks, and I felt my cock coming to life again. I had the brief fear of his skate edges slicing into my tender butt cheeks, but Andre carefully held them away from my body.

I had thought I was finished, but Andre thought that I had more to give, and Andre proved to be right. This time, he wrapped the strong fingers of a hand around my balls and rolled and pulled them and held me to his pelvis until, many long minutes later, with Andre fucking himself on my cock with the rhythm of his strong leg muscles, I had cum again deep inside him.

I took this as Andre's statement that I hadn't done anything to him that he didn't want done. But this time when I pulled out and away from him, I left him laying there, spread-eagled on the judges' table and skated back out to the center of the ice, where I performed a perfect triple salchow jump. After showing the French youngster what else I could do well, I skated over to the boards, snatched up my athlete T, and skated back to the exit to the locker rooms, not looking back to the blond French skater at all.

I knew now that I'd be in prime condition for the double's short program tomorrow evening. The Frenchee's ass canal was so tight and I was so big and long, however, that I wondered if he would be able to unbow his legs and fight through the ass pain for his own men's short program the following evening. But I didn't care one way or the other. He wasn't competing in the doubles. Regardless of the damage I might already have done to him, I reminded myself that I'd have to check the practice session schedules running up to the long programs to see if Andre would be available for another private workout session before the long programs. None of my regular fuck buddies had come to this competition.

* * *

I had had my eye on Aleksey since the skating season began. He was the new partner for Tonya in the ice pairs division, and he was sheer sex on ice. He was all dark, brooding good looks; muscle and power and with curly black hair on his arms and legs and swirling around his pecs and diving in a wide path down into his leotard. He wore his jet black hair long, in a pony tail, with a few strands loose across his face, only seeming to hide his piercing eyes and sensual mouth, making them all the more desirable.

The public was able to see the loop ring through one ear, but only those of us who saw him in practice and in the showers knew of the ring through a nipple and the other, maddenly intriguing one down below, in the helmet of his cock.

All season long, I had agonized over the thought of that cock ring running up and down my ass canal, but Aleksey had hardly spoken to me at all, let alone given me a tumble. The lack of attention and interminable waiting only made me love and want him more.

I knew he fucked men. I was well aware of his ritual of having a good fuck the day before competitions, but he'd always had his own friends around him to accommodate him for that—at least until now. None of his usual male friends were in this competition, and he was so on edge that I could tell he hadn't emptied his ball sack since Skate Canada, two weeks previously. I'd watched him just now in practice, and he was so unsettled that his timing was off. I was afraid he was going to drop Tonya to the ice during one of their lifts. He must have been afraid of this as well, as I saw him send her off the ice and start to furiously skim the ice on his own, practicing his moves, trying to get them under control.

I wanted Aleksey to love me, and in order for that to happen, I had to maneuver him into making love to me. No time seemed to be better than the present, so I glided out onto the ice and started some practice warm-ups for my singles routine, hoping to attract his attention.

My timing had been right. I could see instantly that he was watching me. And I could see the desire building in his eyes and his groin coming to life. You can't hide much in an ice skater's practice leotard, and Aleksey was so mammoth down there to start with that any building of sexual energy there was impossible to keep a secret. For performances, he wore a cup that kept his manhood reasonably within bounds, without disguising it to a point of disappointing the women spectators—and a good many of the men spectators as well. But in practice, he didn't bother with a cup, and I could see him lengthen and thicken as I skimmed across the ice.

He skated over to the boards and pulled off his practice T-shirt and came back out to center ice and did some magnificent spins that were not part of his current pairs routine. He was doing them for me. My heart began to pound.

I skated over to the boards and removed my T as well. My smooth, lithe blondness complimented his dark, hairy muscle pack perfectly. I was a youthful yang to his older, experienced yin; I was compliant, soft, seeking bottom to his urgently needy, hard top.

We started to skate in relationship to each other, our glides and spins and jumps coming into a shared rhythm and into a complimentary pattern. We also skated in ever-tighter circles, in toward each other until, in a cloud of ice shavings, we both stopped dead, facing each other, very close. Both of our chests were heaving from the intensity of the syncopated ice dance. He leaned his head down to me as I tilted my head up, meeting his lips with mine. Our tongues entwined, and I felt a flash of recognition and pleasure zip through his body as he discovered I had a knob-headed stud in my tongue. I could feel the wheels turning in his head concerning the pleasure I could give his cock with that stud, just as I was melting in anticipation of what his cock ring could do in my ass.

With one hand on my butt and the other on the small of my back, Aleksey arched my torso back and attacked erect nipples with his lips and teeth, leaving me in no doubt about his need and his intention to ravish my body. I rewarded the hot attention he was giving my body with little yips of pleasure and pain and buried my fingers first in the curls of his chest and then in the hair on his head, giving at least token indication of trying to pull him off me, but only effecting my real goal of releasing his long black hair from the pony tail to flutter across my face, shoulders, and chest, giving me more points of pleasure. My fingers slipped away from his hair and fell limply at my side, as he lifted me off the ice and slid my body up his while moving his lips and teeth down to my belly and navel, which was pierced with a gold ring that got a workout from his tongue, teeth, and lips.

He then let me slide down his body onto my knees on the ice and pushed my face into his crotch.

"Suck me," he said, "And then I'm going to fuck you." I thrilled at hearing those words, which I had longed to hear for months. Without hesitation, I pulled his leotard down to below his pelvis and began working his cock with my mouth. He gasped at what I was able to do with that stud in my tongue. I had barely gotten him hardened up, however, when he pulled me back up to where he could lock his mouth onto mine. I wrapped my legs around him above his hips, and he skated over to where the boards broke to accommodate a judges' table. The urgency of his need was apparent. He seemed like a wild animal in heat now, focused only on his own sex urge. I had envisioned romance and a lover, and I was getting raped by a fucking machine.

Flipping me around, Aleksey laid me on the table chest down, pulled my leotard down to my knees, and went for my asshole with his tongue. With one hand on the small of my back, Aleksey held me down on the table. The other hand explored my cock and balls and gave them attention that drove me wild in anticipation.

Quickly, though, he had my ass wetted with his tongue and widened with his roaming fingers, and he crouched up and over me and got the helmet of his cock into my ass opening. I could feel the coldness of the ring. I whimpered and complained under him as he worked to gain entry. I wanted love; I wanted him to make slow, sensual love to me, not just to ravish me. His cock was huge, and my whimpers increased to gasps of pain and objection as he pushed insistently into me a few inches. He stopped the assault, giving my ass canal a chance to adjust to the size of his cock, and then, punctuated by my exclamations in French, obviously not caring about how he was using me, he thrust into me to the hilt. The cock ring caused my ass walls to ripple and tremble as it drove up my canal.

But this was what I wanted. And as my ass accommodated his billy club, the pain subsided and the pleasure flowed in. My objections turned to moans and sighs and more accommodating French phrases, as my tight little ass opened to him. He began to slowly pump me.

He dug his hands into my pecs and pulled me up to his hairy chest. The silkiness of his hair on my smooth back was sensual. Acknowledging my sighs, He turned my head to his, and we kissed. I looked at him with a dreamy expression and searched for the English that would express what I was experiencing; I certainly couldn't express myself in Russian.

"The cock stud," I said. "The feeling."

"You like?" he asked.

"Yes, I like very much," I said. "Please. Can you fuck harder?"

"Sure," he said, although he didn't respond immediately. He twisted my torso so that he could get his teeth at one of my nipples, and I gasped and moaned at the attention he gave me there.

After a few minutes, he let my torso descend back onto the table top. But then he was trying to turn me onto my back on the table. In his urgency and realizing that he wouldn't be able to strip off my practice leotard over my skates, he lifted his own skate-clad foot and sliced through the crotch of my pants, freeing my legs. Then he slowly spun me around on the table top on the spit of his still-buried cock, turned me on my back, and lifting my legs in the air with his hands. My hands fluttered up his torso, following the silk trail of the hair, and he began to deep fuck me. I was letting out little yelps of pleasure and whispering sweet nothings to him in French. He seemed not to be listening to me, to only be tuning in on his own cock. I then began jerking myself off, pushed by the need, but disappointed that he was only thinking of himself and his own needs. I was beginning to cry. This wasn't the romance I had expected from my long-anticipated lover.

When he was about to cum, he pulled out of me and shot off across my belly and up into my pecs. He buried a fist in my long blond hair, lifted his head to mine, and gave me what he obviously intended to be one last, deep, brutal, good-bye kiss. But, while we kissed, I took his cock in my hands and pulled his still-hard dick back into me. I was desperately trying to get him to focus on me; to give me some love, not just a fuck that would relieve his own pressure, enhance his own performance on the ice.

I grabbed his butt cheeks, holding him inside me, and writhed under him, my lips flying through his curly chest hairs and into his pits. I was doing everything I could to arouse him again, to make him want me. I nipped his nipples and rolled my tongue stud over the flesh of his torso. I wrapped my strong legs around him, below his buttocks, and I felt his cock coming to life again.

He had thought we were finished, but I thought he had more to give, more to give me, and I proved to be right. This time, I wrapped the strong fingers of a hand around his balls and rolled and pulled them and held him to my pelvis until, many long minutes later, with me fucking myself on Aleksey's cock with the rhythm of my strong leg muscles, Aleksey had cum deep inside me once more.

I just knew I had him now, that now he would become my tender lover, just the way I had envisioned. But I was wrong. All he had wanted was sexual release so that he could perform well in tomorrow's competition. Without further endearments, he just pulled out and away from me and left me laying there, spread-eagled on the judges' table. He skated back out to the center of the ice, performing a perfect triple salchow jump to show me that I had only been part of his routine. Then he skated over to the boards at the other side of the rink, snatched up his athlete T, and skated back to the exit to the locker rooms, not looking back to me at all.