Thursday, March 11, 2010

Making Adjustments

Shay’s butt landed on the ice with a resounding thud. This was worse than it sounded, but not from an injury point of view. The 2010 Winter Olympics were a scant 2 months away, and Gunnar Smith and Shaylbeigh Dawne’s Ice Dancing performance was getting worse, not better. Their coach was furious, their parents were panic stricken, and, for their part, Gunnar and Shayl were absolutely terrified of their impending doom. No one knew what the problem was; they had won Gold Medals in the Ice Dancing Free and Original Dance competitions just four years ago in Turino. Almost overnight they had become a national sensation not only because of their come-from-nowhere win, but also because of the still somewhat sensational aspect of their differing races. Shayl was Haitian-American; quite dark skinned, quick-witted, and incredibly beautiful. Gunnar was almost her polar opposite physically; tall and Nordic in every detail, from his platinum hair to his alabaster skin. They were the perfectly contrasted, but on the ice they complimented each other just as well. Shayl skated with an instinctive sensuality that belied her age. She was beguiling, even at the age of 14; the way she commanded attention was like Scheherazade weaving a story late into a hot Arabian night. If Shay was the spice, Gunnar was the meat; technically he was a master of the arts. He could do any move you asked of him, triple and quad axles. He could throw Shay into the air and have her land on a dime on the ice. Some called him the Peyton Manning of Ice Dancing; only some called him that because most people thought that it sounded incredibly ridiculous. But still, it was an accurate comparison. Gunnar was adept at the fundamentals of ice dancing, and knowing that he would always be where he was supposed to be, and would always perform to a predetermined level of excellence was a source of comfort that allowed Shayl to spread her artistic wings and win the judges over with her often literal flights of fancy on the ice.
When Shayl’s wings started to become bruised from hitting the ice one too many times, the concern in the eyes of their entire team was palpable. Some were concerned about their sponsorships, some were concerned about their reputations falling apart, and some were actually concerned for the physical safety of Shayl and Gunnar. As bad as having a poor performance would be for Shayl, it would be far worse for her to suffer an injury. That would mean that they could not perform in any competitions after the Olympics, and everyone present had made too many sacrifices and invested too many resources for the dream to die now. Shayl sat on the ice and stared up into Gunnar’s Glacier-blue eyes. She saw something there that she hadn’t ever noticed before. It was a broken dam, a torrent of emotions, but she strained nevertheless to pick out an individual feeling. Like a bear trying to grab trout swimming upstream, Shayl gradually caught the meaning of Gunnar’s glances; he was ashamed of her. This provoked two reactions in Shayl; 1. She was quite hurt that her dancing partner of 6 years felt like she was a liability, and 2. She was quite pissed that Gunnar was blaming her for their troubles.
“Gunnar”, she yelled at him in her heavily Patois-accented English, “You surely are not blaming me for our recent problems? It is you who suddenly has a severe case of butterfingers!” Gunnar skated away from her and spoke softly, not daring to face her.
“Shayl, I’m the same as I have always been. I take great pride in my consistency. It’s you, You! Who’ve changed! It’s you who is destroying our team and ruining our chances at Gold. I’ve kept my mouth shut for as long as I could, but this is too far. I’ve just now turned 17, I can find another partner. You’re at the far end of 18, you’re damn near over the hill for this sport!”
Shaylbeigh got to her skates and drifted listlessly around the ice. She felt herself drowning with no lifesaver to grab onto. Gunnar was right; she was changing. To be more specific, her body was changing at a frightening pace. She had fought tooth and nail to keep the signs of womanhood from afflicting her form, but Shaylbeigh could not fight time or biology any longer. Gone were her slender teenage hips, replaced with what some people had whispered was a “phatty”. The past two weeks she would stare into her full length mirror at home, running her hands up and down her body. She wasn’t eating any more than usual, and she was training harder than ever, but still, the curves came like thieves in the night, leaving gifts instead of taking them. Her hips had flared out to 34 inches, which looked almost obscene on her petite 5’ nothing frame. What was hardest to hide, however, were her breasts. What had once been little gravity-defying A-Cups had now Incredible-Hulked their way into 34 D’s. It was impossible to not notice them, but Shaylbeigh had done a wonderful job of burying her head in the sand about the whole subject in public.
In private, however, she could not keep her hands off of herself. She had never understood the idea of finding oneself sexy until she saw herself naked that first time. It was, to her memory anyway, the first time she saw herself as a woman, as a sexual being capable of anything. Her legs were muscular and toned, her skin a perfect shade of deep, dark chocolate brown. “If I was candy, I would eat me”, she giggled to herself. She sat on the edge of her bed and blindly reached behind her for her favorite bottle of lotion, Japanese Cherry Blossoms. She squirted a generous amount into her hands, and let it slide between her fingers. As it warmed, the excess dripped across her breasts, drops of lotion clinging precipitously to her large dark nipples. Her nipples had always been this way, and where something of an embarrassment to her, like two loud and rowdy children are an embarrassment in a movie theater. Her nipples always announced their presence to the world wherever Shayl went, no matter how she tried to cover them up.
There was no press conference or Red Carpet event where her nipples didn’t steal the show from Shayl and Gunnar, protruding defiantly through whatever bras and dresses she wore. She lifted her breasts and let them fall, watching them bob and bounce in full rebellion against gravity. As they bounced more lotion find its way into her lap and started to run down her thighs. Shayl started to smooth the creamy pink goo across her chest, spending extra time moisturizing the two disobedient children that now dominated the landscape of her upper body. She allowed one hand to lazily drape across her lap and draw figures in the drops of lotion that had landed there, all the time keeping her eyes fixed on her image in the mirror. Her legs fell open seemingly on their own, and she was honestly surprised at the amount of moisture between them. Shayl was no cold fish, not by a long shot, but she could not remember ever being this turned on. Her pleasure was undeniable, judging by the state of her vagina. Her lips were swollen, as they say, and she had already made a small puddle on her comforter. Shayl brought some pillows down to the end of the bed so she could recline and relax but still see herself playing. Her right hand molested her chest, while her left hand contented itself to run up and down the lines and cuts of her thighs and calves. Eventually she tired of teasing herself, and indulged in the greatest of personal pastimes. The memories of that night a week ago gave Shayl an idea.
Where Shaylbeigh had done her best to ignore her new developments, Gunnar noticed, to say the least. He was always one to notice the slightest details, and he believed that he had noticed Shayl’s development before she did. It was this “noticing” that was his blessing and his curse. Although he put all of the blame on her, it was really his nerves that had let them down in the moment. He had been unusually comfortable with Shayl’s body, as comfortable with her as he was with his own. He had never thought twice about putting his hands anywhere on her body; between her legs, against her inner thighs, around her hips, up the sides of her chest; for most of their relationship he thought of her as little more than another tool. But now this tool was becoming more and more a living, breathing woman, and he could not ignore it for much longer. He could not put aside the feelings of her firm new breasts as they brushed against his hands, the urges to cradle them and mash them threw off his judgment. Her blossoming form pushed against him for stability, as their bodies moved in unison and became one with the music. He felt the round fullness of her hips and behind pushing against his groin and his pulse would quicken. It was an experience he could barely tolerate. He had never been teased by a woman before; his looks and athleticism assured him of a conquest whenever he wanted it.
The build-up of sexual tension that was unknowingly created between their young bodies was something that none of his carefully laid out plans allowed for, and the more he tried to fight his feral cravings the worse their routines became. The worst part, the thing that he absolutely could not control, was when he had to lift her up. All of their moves that required him to lift her from her inner thigh absolutely destroyed him because for some reason she was always wet. Gunnar found himself putting his hand closer to her pussy than necessary, to feel its heat, its humidity, next to his skin. His famed focus and stoicism were coming unraveled all because he could not stop thinking with the wrong head. Gunnar’s father had become a successful businessman by not allowing distractions to get in the way of his goals, and here, now, at the age of 17, Gunnar felt himself already unable to follow in his father’s footsteps.
Gunnar’s revelry was cut short when Shaylbeigh skated up directly to his face. He noticed how large and beautiful her eyes were (but weren’t they always this way?) and how lush and full her lips were (but they’re the same lips as they’ve always been, right?) “What is it Shayl? We should get back to practicing, we are nowhere near ready.” Shayl took Gunnar’s hands and lead him towards the edge of ice. “That is enough for one night my dear. Even the cleaning staff has gone home for the evening. It looks like this will be another night where we end up closing the place down.” Gunnar and Shayl were known for their long and intense practice sessions, so eventually instead of waiting for them to finish, the building staff of their practice ice rink just started to leave a set of keys for the couple in their locker rooms, so that they could lock up on their way out. “Let us just hit the showers and try some more tomorrow huh?”
“Gunner looked at Shayl; between his confused feelings and the advanced practice pace he had put them through today, he was exhausted. “Fine. Go cool down and I’ll change then you can take me home. I still can’t believe that you have your driver’s license before I do.”
Shayl smiled at Gunnar as he headed towards his locker room, “It seems as if this old lady may still have some things to teach you, huh young man?”
When Shaylbeigh saw the large set of keys next to her locker, she knew that they had the whole building to themselves; her plan had found the perfect time for its execution. She took a shower, as fast as she could, and got ready in what must have been a world record for a woman to get ready. She was motivated and did not want Gunnar to get too comfortable before she was able to get him. As she crossed over to the men’s locker room area, she noted how easily she had taken to wearing high heeled pumps. She thought it would be difficult at first, but recently she felt that they intensified her newfound sexuality a thousand fold. She peeked around the corner and caught sight of Gunnar just as he was coming out of the shower. She would be lying if she said she had never thought of him sexually; she had snuck peeks of him in the nude before, and she never got tired of the view. He had a body that could be the model for a Greek God; every muscle perfectly sculpted and present in his movements. And oh the way he moved! No wasted motions, the grace of a ballet dancer, but with a powerful purpose to his stride. She gazed lovingly at the thick cock that hung between his legs. She was definitely not one to get onto silly discussions about which races had bigger dicks; she knew damn well that this White boy was blessed as well as any Black man you’d care to mention. It was not quite so long, but thick, thick enough to cause her to salivate.
“This is so unladylike, but I now know that I have to take one for the good of the team”, Shayl thought.
As Gunnar wrapped himself in a towel, Shaylbeigh Dawne walked into his life, for the first time, as an adult woman and not just his skating partner. Her damp hair fell in little ringlets about her shoulders. She had wrapped herself in one of her designer shower robes, and all Gunnar could see at first was her perfectly painted toenails in her Gold Jimmy Choo Clue pumps with the 4 inch heel. She then opened the robe to reveal that all she was wearing was a Gold silk and Black lace Carine Gilson Bra and Thong set… a very, very small bra and panty set at that. Around her neck hung one of the Gold medals they won in Turino 4 years ago. “You know Gunny, I never thanked you properly for all of the hard work you put in that helped us win this medal…” She felt like she was doing one of her performances, but for an audience of one. She glided across the room like the predatory jungle cat she was. She knew she had him as soon as she walked into the room; now was the time for the cat to play with the mouse.
“Shaylbeigh! What… what is this…” Gunnar stammered. He wrapped his towel a little tighter, but his arousal was already readily apparent. With the size of the weapon he was trying to conceal, he would have needed a sheet to cover it anyway. “This is… we shouldn’t be…” He was having considerable trouble forming coherent thoughts as all of the blood in his body rushed to his groin. Shayl finally closed the distance between them, and her straining nipples stabbed him in his six-pack.
“You were right earlier mon petit ami”, she purred, “The problems we have been having have been my fault. My body has changed, and it was silly and immature to try and hide that from you”, she said as she spun Gunnar around and gently forced him down onto a bench. “There have been some changes with me, can you tell?” She straddled the bench and ran her fingers up and down her hips and ass, in case Gunnar was having any trouble noticing the perfect curves that his partner had developed.
“I know why our performances have been off lately. You are the type of person who needs to know everything about everything. You need to know every inch of the instrument that you are working with. And I am your instrument, right?” Shayl took Gunnar’s hands and placed them on her hips. “Well Mon Ami, are you ready to play me?”
Gunnar, for his part, was… well… “Shaylbeigh… I have no idea what I should do right now. You’re my partner; I haven’t ever looked at you like other girls…”
“Woman, Gunny. I am obviously a woman now. You are used to my girlish body, and if we are ever to regain our form, you are going to have to accept that I am a woman now, and be familiar with me”, she said as she moved his hands up to her extra-hardened nipples, “all of me. And I must know you, all of you…”
Shayl removed Gunnar’s towel with little protestation from him. She gingerly took him in her hand and stroked him to hardness. It didn’t take long. This was by far the most erotic event that had ever happened to Gunny, and he was in no mood or position to stop her. He was used to being in charge, but this was obviously Shayl’s show. She took more charge of the situation when 3 inches of his cock disappeared into her mouth, between her large, glossy lips. “MMMmm, I think you need a better view if you are to really know me.” With that she swung her ass around so that it was facing Gunnar’s face. Never had he seen such a perfect round and full ass, certainly not on such a small girl. He nervously grabbed her cheeks and spread them apart, finally seeing with his own eyes what he had only had only sensed before. Gunnar pulled her thong aside and slowly ran his large fingers up and down her deep pink slit. Shayl took more and more of Gunnar’s large-ish cock into her mouth, slurping loudly and messily leaving trails of saliva all over him. When she felt him begin to slip his fingers inside her, all rational thought became impossible for her. She suddenly knew what it felt like to be Gunny out on the ice. She sucked harder and tugged on his shaft to get him as hard as possible. She had started this, and she wanted to make sure that she got her money’s worth.
On the other end, Gunnar’s mind had settled on one track. He was receiving the blowjob of his life, and it was only fair that he return the favor. He soaked his hands with her, pausing occasionally to lick her juices from his hands. He couldn’t believe how much juice she produced, especially since he had barely begun to please her. “I’ve got a lot more planned for you woman”, he said to himself as he slipped a couple of fingers into her eagerly awaiting hole. He gently massaged her clit with his thumb as he slowly finger-fucked her. Once he got a good rhythm going Shayl’s juices flowed at an even more rapid pace. His chest became wet with her outpourings of affection, and he could not stand to waste another drop. He suddenly wrapped his hands around her hips and stood up, burying his face in her beautifully delicious folds. It was a position he had her in many times before, just not, you know, naked.
Shayl gasped as Gunnar swept her up in his powerful arms. Now that he had her naked, he really was getting a better feel for her body, and he definitely had a great feel for how to treat her kitten. He licked her from top to bottom, not leaving a centimeter dry in between. Gunnar swirled his tongue around her clit in clockwise circular motions, then went the other way round for a few minutes. When he began to feel her torso vibrate, he went into figure 8’s around most sensitive spots, which drove her over the edge. Shayl started screaming her upside-down orgasm into the air, in Patois, which is exactly as arousing as it sounds. Gunnar sucked and swallowed every bit of sweet reward that he had teased out of his instrument, and turned her over so that they were face to face. For the first time they kissed; a mad, passionate kiss whose length couldn’t be measured by any clock nor whose intensity by any words. It was a kiss that solved puzzles, answered riddles, opened doors and unlocked paradigms heretofore unknown to teenagers. In other words, it was a pretty fucking hot lip lock. Eventually the two came up for air, locked in each other’s embrace. Shayl stared into Gunnar’s eyes, begging for something and everything he had. He understood implicitly, and took a black-cherry-dark nipple into his mouth, swirling it around like a fine wine. Being the athletes that they were, they could maintain their position without using their hands. Shayl’s powerful legs locked her in place as Gunnar mauled her chest, and she played with the head of his cock some more, enjoying the way his heat felt slipping up and down her kitty.
“Are you getting it now Gunny? Are you learning me? Learning how to play your new instrument?”
Gunnar reluctantly removed a tit from his mouth to answer her, “Yes, yes I think I’m, getting it, but I won’t know for sure until I know you from the inside.”
“Well what are you waiting for mon petite ami? Come into me, do it, Do it NOW!” “Gunnar needed no more prodding as he became one with her, all 9 inches at once. Shayl was not sure if she had bit off more than she could chew as she suddenly felt very, very full. He roughly slammed her against one of the lockers, manhandling her nipples and kissing softly at her neck. The immediate onrush of sharply contrasting sensations made her head swoon. After what seemed like years Gunnar withdrew, and Shayl felt like a balloon that had sprung a leak. Soon enough though, he rammed her again, and their first fuck session began. Gunnar knew that Shaylbeigh was vocal from their accidents in practices, but the noises she was making now could wake the dead. Another thing that he knew was that she was a tough girl who could take a good deal of abuse. He bear hugged her and started to bounce her off of his raging erection nearly faster than the eye could follow. With the regular pace of a metronome he fucked her senseless, not even feeling the deep furrows that Shayl carved into his back. Gunnar could last a long time with a woman; even at his young age he was unusually experienced, but with Shayl all of that experience was useless. He was less concerned about preserving his cool, calm, in control persona and more concerned with hitting her g-spot over and over and over again. He backed off of the lockers and held her aloft, her weight no more than that of a fine Stradivarius in the hands of a master violinist.
And he began to play; he played his instrument like she desired, producing beautiful music from the deepest parts of her soul. Shaylbeigh reared back and took one last look at her momentary master before plunging headlong into the most ferocious orgasm that she ever experienced. When she felt like her orgasm had subsided enough for her to be able to recognize what parts of her where hers and which where his, she mumbled “Mmm, uhh, fuck me, fuck me… slower, slower…”
Gunnar certainly didn’t want this experience to end too soon so he slowed his pace to that of a waltz. It was as if they went from screwing to a House beat to making love to an R&B song. Shayl constricted herself around his body; her mounds undulating across his chest, winding her hips around his, and massaging his cock inside of her, all in perfect unison. Gunnar would have marveled at her athletic ability and body control if he could think straight. All he could thing was how strongly he wanted to cum. He had to physically peel her off of him (taking some of his back with her as she went) and lay her on the bench where he was. He slowly stroked her, going 8 inches at a time with each repetition. His sweat dripped onto Shayla, and she opened her mouth to catch what she could; she wanted him, all of him, inside of her. Even on the bottom she was active, moving her hips up to meet him, making sure that he never missed his mark. He pushed her legs behind her head (a simple thing for her) and started to drill her again with reckless abandon. His hair fell around her face, giving them a small private gazebo to share more passionate kisses in. Gunnar felt himself about to explode, not just from his balls, but from everything from everywhere, from his entire body. He looked at Shaylbeigh with something approaching ecstatic panic in his eyes. She nodded at him peacefully and licked her lips. Gunnar understood, and in one deft motion had his purple-cock at her mouth. With the most gentle of caresses from her hand, Shayl unleashed a flash flood of hot cum down her throat that she would relish for days. Gunnar seemingly let his entire life flood into Shayl, as he fell backwards on the bench between her legs. Shayl calmly rolled his seed around her tongue and eventually swallowed all of it.
When Gunnar later thought of this night (and he did think of it) he would remember never seeing a drop of his own cum leave his dick; Shayl never let one bit hit the open air. He vaguely remembered her letting a little drip onto her Gold medal, then pour it back into her mouth, but that was it. They both lay backwards, their legs intertwined with each other, thinking about what had just happened. Neither said a word, savoring the afterglow of their hot bodies contrasting the cold ice a few feet away from them.
*Clap, clap, clap*
Shaylbeigh and Gunnar jumped up at the sudden noise; they were certain that they were alone. “Well, well, that was by far the best performance you two have put on in the last two months.”
“Coach Smith?”
It was indeed their coach (and Gunnar’s father) Lee Smith. “Dad, how much did you see?” Gunnar was mortified; this went against one of his father’s biggest rules, “always keep business and pleasure separate” “It’s.. um… not what it looks like?”
“Gunnar”, Mr. Smith said, “Stop. It’s ok. You two are just doing what you needed to do to improve your performances. You were doing what every good team does, making adjustments. The only problem”, Mr. Smith said, “is that you didn’t include your coach in this exercise.” He strode from the door past his son, around to Shaylbeigh until her head was directly underneath the noticeable bulge in his pants. “If we are going to practice, we practice as a team. “