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 singles 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 Prince Albert 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 passage 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.