Hielo - Sex Stories

Hielo

A few months after the German occupation of France in June 1940, Emilio Vargas, an émigré carpenter of Andalusian heritage who had moved to Carcassone in the early 1930s to seek work, decided to return to Spain with his French wife of two years, Elise, who was then eight months pregnant with their first child. Under cover of darkness, in late November 1940, they left their home and made their journey south in their rapidly deteriorating and unreliable Citroën Traction Avant , which finally gave up the ghost in the spa town of Bagnères-de - Luchon, close to the French-Spanish border. From there they made their way, with ever increasing difficulty, and largely on foot, over the Pyrenees, crossing the border into Spain. During one night of the crossing, the temperature plummeted; far below normal and far below zero. The snow fell, heavy and unrelenting, bitterly blown by a fierce, icy wind which cut through their bones like frozen steel. In sight of Pico Aneto, Elise suddenly went into labour. It was there, chilled to her soul, that she gave birth to her first child, a daughter. Miraculously both Elise and her child survived, though barely. They named the girl Hielo; an eternal reminder of her frozen entrance into the world. The family eventually made their way to Andalusia, where Hielo grew up in the small town where her father had been born. She had inherited her mother’s sleek, long chestnut hair, hazel eyes and high cheekbones. She was both quiet and reserved by nature, ...

... but everyone who met her sensed there was more inside her. It was as though the ice into which she had been born had somehow frozen something inside her, but nobody could say what that might be. At the age of eighteen she found work as a librarian, which seemed to suit her placid nature. Eventually, she met and married a man named Alejandro, who worked at a local vineyard, which produced arguably the finest Oloroso in Spain. From the outset of their marriage, their lives were both modest and routine. Although Alejandro loved Hielo, their lovemaking had never been anything other than unadventurous and increasingly sporadic. Alejandro had come to accept things. He had initially suggested to Hielo that they try for a baby, but she had resisted, advancing any number of excuses against it: they were too young, they were still, relatively, too poor, that maybe next year the time would be better. Four or so years after their marriage, a warm spring turned into an arid, throat-cracking summer. Andalusia was used to very hot summers, but as the weeks and months passed, the sun just seemed to burn its fierce anger over the already rugged and oven-baked arid landscape of the south west. No rain fell for months, and only the crazy, foolhardy or those whose employment depended on it ventured into the daytime heat which roasted and cracked the earth with ruthless intensity. There seemed to be no respite, day or night; no shade or shadow could offer any solace. Day after sweat-drenched day ...