Bubbles and Troubles

by Bebe Balocca

  When she laid eyes upon it at last, Carmen gaped. “It’s the most beautiful chicken coop I’ve ever seen!” she gushed. “Just look at it, Brock!”

  Carmen rushed to the new structure, situated behind Castle Speranza between the pond and the woods. An ornate five-foot wrought iron fence surrounded the chicken yard. The fence was gorgeous, but it had nothing on the coop. Like a miniature version of the castle itself, the raised coop was fashioned of interlocking stone. It rested on six short stone columns and even had a tower and a slate roof. Carmen placed Spare Tire on the ground so he could strut around and investigate the new digs. Paloma gently released Scarlett and Melanie. They clung close to Paloma’s legs and watched as Gretel, Agatha, Bella, and Suellen raced around the fenced yard and up the ridged ramp into the coop.

  “You sure they’ll be okay?” Carmen worried. “No trolls will come for a midnight snack?”

  “No, the chickens are under our protection now,” Brock assured her, “as are you, and the magical beings of the woods will steer clear of them. The friendlier ones, like the tree spirits and elves, will even protect them should the need arise.”

  “Where are the people who made it?” Carmen wondered. “I’d love to thank them for this.”

  Brock shrugged. “You don’t have to,” he answered. “They’re just gnomes.”

  “But this seems awfully permanent, don’t you think?” Carmen added. “I mean, as soon as we’ve stopped the development of the woods and your father has decided he can trust me, I’m going back home and, uh, I want to take my chickens with me.”

  “Dream on,” Paloma muttered. She sat down on the grassy floor of the coop to admire the chickens. “You’re not going anywhere. Father would never allow it.”

  “Nothing is set in stone, Paloma,” Brock argued. “Who knows what Father will eventually decide?”

  Paloma raised her eyebrows and looked away, clearly unconvinced. Melanie hopped into her lap and snuggled in for some petting.

  Korbin and Lowell made their goodbyes. Korbin headed to the library to research chickens and how to maximise egg production. After asking Carmen’s permission, Lowell took Dax on a tour of the property. Dax went with the enormous, gruff man happily enough, probably relieved to be away from a noisy, crowing Spare Tire.

  Brock took Carmen’s hand and led her around to the front of the castle. “Alone at last.” He smiled. “Are you doing okay, Carmen?”

  “I suppose,” she answered, “given that for the foreseeable future I’m staying in a castle built by gnomes surrounded by woods full of magical creatures.”

  “And with me,” Brock amended. “Don’t forget that I’ll be here.” He swept her up into his arms and covered her mouth in a tender kiss.

  Carmen’s body reacted at once, softening and warming and growing damp in all the right places. She lifted her hand to the back of his neck to stroke his buttery soft skin and urge him to deepen his kiss.

  “Hmm,” Carmen breathed when Brock’s lips parted from hers. His bright blue eyes promised mystery, passion, magic. “This is fascinating and thrilling,” she whispered, “and I’m not complaining, Brock, but I hope you understand that I’ve got to get back home eventually, where I belong. I have friends and a life in Charade.”

  Brock pressed his lips to hers once more in response. “I’m sure you’d like to freshen up,” he told her, “and you must be hungry and thirsty, too.”

  One and a half seconds later, a waist-high man clad in a roughspun toga stood at Brock’s side. He bore a tray holding a goblet of iced liquid and a bunch of plump red grapes in his knobby, oversized hands.

  “Ah, refreshments,” Brock said. The gnome bobbed his heavily wrinkled head in deference and stood at attention. Carmen accepted the goblet from Brock and took one hesitant sip from it. She licked her lips and downed the glass of sweet, fresh apple juice. Brock took the grapes from the tray and sent the gnome on his way just as Carmen began to thank him for her drink.

  “Let me show you the bathing cavern,” he said, casting his eyes about as he spoke. “It’s where we bathe and, um, restore ourselves.”

  Carmen noticed a new gravity and nervous uncertainty in his voice. What could be so ominous about a bathroom? she wondered.

  Brock led her around to the other side of Castle Speranza. Carmen’s eyes drank in the peaceful, cool pond when it entered her sight once more. The glassy water reflected the rich blue sky and gnarled tree limbs overhead. Swans glided across the surface, breaking the sharp mirror image into a swirled, blurry impressionist painting. Mama wood duck and her babies were just exiting on the woods’ side of the pond. Jewel-toned dragonflies swooped and dove inches over the gleaming surface. Carmen heard the jubilant warble of a wren hidden in the woods.

  Chapter Nine

  Brock stopped in front of a thick wooden door set into a squat stone structure. The small archway and door were hardly fancy, but looked as though they could stand up to a tornado, an enraged bear, and an earthquake all at once. Brock’s gaze flitted from side to side and over his shoulder as he slid the wide wooden bolt. He hurried Carmen inside then shut the door behind him.

  Unlike the electrified castle, the tunnel to the bathing cavern was lit only by candles. It felt warm, safe, and almost womb-like to Carmen. She traced her fingertips down the damp, sloping rock wall of the tunnel. At the end of the short walk, the space opened into an enormous cavern. A rushing stream bisected the space, flowing swiftly from right to left, with a swirling, frothy pocket of water and another of bubbling mud. Carmen saw manmade stone enclosures on either side of the entrance.

  “Girls’ room,” he stated and pointed to the right. “Boys’ room”—he indicated with a gesture to his left. “The gnomes diverted parts of the stream to use as plumbing down here. There are modern bathrooms in the castle, plumbed by a different stream, but you can use the toilet here as well. I’ll meet you at the stream.”

  Carmen relieved herself in the simple but clean bathroom. It felt odd to have rushing water beneath her, but her urgency helped her get over the discomfiting feeling of a rivulet under her rump.

  She found Brock standing nude by the stream’s bank and waiting for her. He seemed impatient and nervous. “Come on,” he urged. “Strip down and get in here with me. This tub is heated by a natural hot spring. It’s amazing.”

  “All right, all, right.” Carmen chuckled. “Where’s the fire?” She shucked off her clothes and folded them neatly on the floor of the cavern. Carmen joined Brock next to the bubbling pool, took his hand, and dipped a toe in to test the temperature. “Ooooh! That’s boiling!” she complained. “You’re gonna poach me!”

  “You’ll get used to it,” Brock insisted. He stepped into the water and sat on a hidden ledge beneath the surface. Carmen eased in beside him. The bubbly current was scorching hot, but soon her body acclimated to it and it felt like pure heaven. The liquid seemed to soak right through her skin and into her bones, lifting away stress and soreness she hadn’t even known she’d had. Her breasts floated, buoyant and full, in the steamy eddies. Carmen spread her knees apart so that the currents could tickle the lips of her pussy. She groaned as the water entered her cunt. It felt as thick and soft as a tongue inside her. Carmen spread her legs wider so that the heated bubbles could work their way farther within.

  “This feels amazing,” she murmured. “I feel drugged. So limp and relaxed, but also so tingly and alive.”

  “Yes,” Brock agreed drowsily. “This bath has some very special qualities.” He lolled his head back on the rock edge of the tub and closed his eyes.

  Carmen lounged in the natural hot tub for what seemed like hours. She reached a meditative state and time ground to a halt. The water no longer seemed hot—it felt like her exact body temperature. Carmen felt it enter her bloodstream, mingling with her blood and coursing through every vein and artery. It was a living warmth, strengthening her, healing her and changing her somehow. She felt herself rise into the air, light as mist, and coalesce into a cloud, only
to plummet downwards in a breathtaking plunge and seep into the ground once more.

  Carmen’s eyes flew open. “I feel different,” she said. “I feel like this water has done something to me.”

  Under the churning waves, Brock took her hand in his. “Good,” he answered. “Now come with me.” Carmen let him lead her to the edge of the tub where the hot spring mixed with the underground stream. She gasped when the cold waves lapped over her skin and her sluggishness evaporated. Instead of being unpleasantly chilly, though, the current was invigorating. The stream’s depth was just about a foot, so, like Brock, she crawled on her elbows over the smooth river rocks so that she could remain submerged in the brisk, effervescent flow. They moved downstream. Carmen let her legs stretch out behind her and float in the oddly buoyant current. The ripples played against the delicate folds between her legs, replacing the molten heat from the hot tub with refreshing tingles.

  Brock paused at the entrance to the mud bath and grinned wickedly. “Ready to get dirty again?” he asked.

  “If it’s anything like the hot tub, then yeah,” she answered. “Definitely.”

  Brock stepped into the sloppy putty-grey gloop first and held a hand out to steady Carmen as she followed. The mud was hot, although not as hot as the tub they’d just left, and silky-smooth. Carmen moved through the bathwater-warm stuff and found a seat on another hidden ledge next to Brock. Hints of eucalyptus and lavender wafted up from the lapping surface of the bath. “Damn,” Carmen noted, “those gnomes were awesome to build this for your family. Did they dig out the whole cavern for you? How did your dad know where to look?” She shifted down on the bench so that the soothing mud was up to her chin.

  “The magic folk have used this cavern for centuries,” Brock answered, “possibly millennia. It’s no accident that Castle Speranza is built right next to this place, you know. Father did have the gnomes enlarge the hot spring and mud baths, and of course they added the bathrooms for us as well.”

  “Mmmmm,” Carmen hummed. She melted into the mud. Her skin, bones, and muscles felt as shapeless and liquid as the sludge in which she sat. Carmen felt herself slip into another meditative state and lost awareness of time and place. Her body dissolved in an ecstasy of release, breaking into living bits of mud, clay and rock, joining with the volatile earth, hardening into stone, disintegrating against the finger-like, curious root of a tree and being drawn into the tree itself, emerging as first flower, then fruit of the tree, before falling back to the soft, welcoming earth and merging once more with the living clay.

  Carmen woke to see Brock’s face before hers and to feel his splayed hands slip-sliding over her breasts. She exhaled slowly. “It happened again, like in the hot tub over there,” she said, dazzled. “Something changed me. I don’t feel the same. What’s in this stuff? What’s going on?”

  “A good thing,” Brock replied. He scooted her back against the unseen bench to expose her mud-coated chest. “What’s happening now, Carmen,” he whispered, “is a very good thing.” His hands, greased by the silky gloop, slid over her tits and plucked at her hardened nipples. Carmen closed her eyes and leaned into his caress. Her hair, flecked with brown, stood on end and her lips drew into a sensual pucker.

  Brock pressed his spread fingertips into her skin and traced a path up to her neck and over her scalp, then down the back of her head and over her shoulders. Carmen smiled crookedly. “I’m sure I look like a filth monster,” she told him, “not to mention the fact that I’m forty years old and no spring chicken, but, God help me, neither of those facts bothers me a bit right now. Brock, you are the hottest man I’ve ever known. I adore the way you make me feel.”

  Brock worked his massaging fingers down her back and beneath her ass. “You,” he said huskily, “are magnificent, Carmen. Mud is sexy, especially what we’ve got down here, and I promise you that age means absolutely nothing to me. The way you live, the way you love your town and your friends and your animals, the way you move when you’re dancing…”

  He knelt in front of her on the floor of the bath and spread her knees. “I want you to enjoy this place,” he whispered.

  Carmen felt his fingertips nudge the entrance to her cunt. The mud was warm and tingling and slippery—better than any lube on the market—and she arched against his caress as he penetrated her. Heat grew on the stiff tips of her tits and in the sensitive centre of her pussy. Carmen brought one hand to her breast to roll her hardened nipple and lowered the other to Brock’s wrist, urging him to fuck her deeper.

  Brock’s gem-blue eyes darkened. “I find you desirable in every single way, Carmen,” he promised her. He lowered his face to hers for a kiss and swirled his tongue in the soft recesses of her mouth.

  “Can we do it here?” Carmen whispered. “Will it hurt anything to get this gunk inside me?”

  Brock laughed. “Not this gunk,” he answered. He turned and lifted her onto her knees on the wide ledge of the bath. “If you want to get fucked, Carmen,” he growled, “then by all means you are going to get fucked.”

  Carmen cried out when he pushed into her. He was inhumanly thick and rock hard, stretching the walls of her pussy until they screamed, but the slick silt eased the friction perfectly.

  Carmen curved her back to lift her ass in the air and spread her thighs for him. “Deeper,” she begged. Her hanging breasts swept the surface of the mud—it felt like countless tongues lapping at her nipples. “Harder, Brock.” She slammed her ass against him and felt the slap-splash of sloppy, wet warmth on her thighs. “Ohhh, God,” she gasped. “Whatever you do, don’t stop.”

  “No chance, Carmen,” he promised, gripping her hips tightly. “Not until you’ve come and I’ve come inside you.”

  Carmen panted, every inch of skin alive.

  “This stuff is good for you, Carmen,” he grunted, “because it’s now part of you. Do you understand?”

  Carmen understood nothing but the tight, hard fucking she was getting. She groaned as her climax bloomed through her body. Her inner muscles gripped his cock in quick, rhythmic spasms that beat inside her like the wings of a trapped bird.

  “Oh, yes,” she hissed. “It’s so good.” Just as her own peak began to subside, she felt his cum surge and spurt out of the tip of his cock. The thick, hot mix of semen and silt filled her cunt, as heavy and solid as a fist, and Carmen felt another orgasm build with the rapidity of a rushing train. He held his shaft buried within her until her whimpers quieted.

  Brock sat beside her on the ledge of the bath. Carmen, muscles shaking, took a deep breath. “Fuck, that was good, Brock,” she told him and gave her dirt-spiked head a shake. “I’ve never come close to having sex that amazing.”

  “Although I’d like to,” Brock said, “I can’t take all the credit. A lot of the heightened sensitivity you’re feeling is a result of the unique properties down here.”

  “Hmm,” Carmen hummed. She leant back into the soothing, warm gloop and turned his words over in her mind. “You said this stuff is now part of me,” she recalled. “What exactly did you mean, Brock?”

  “I mean that life as you know it is over,” he answered, “and a new life has begun.”

  Carmen laughed uneasily. “Uh, look, Brock, the sex was pretty amazing, but I wouldn’t say you’re ruined other guys for me for the rest of my life.”

  Brock stood up, looking like a living terracotta statue of the perfect male, then eased into the cool flow of the stream. The silt billowed from his skin in a dirt-brown cloud and disappeared with the rushing current. He tipped his head back in the water and scrubbed the earth from his scalp, then sat upright and shook his head like a dog. Carmen, grinning, raised one hand to shield herself from the watery spray. Brock ruffled his fingers through his ashy-grey hair to stand it on end and beckoned to Carmen. “Care to join me for a rinse, my filthy princess?” he asked.

  Carmen sighed and rubbed her thighs together beneath the surface of the gloopy stuff. Her questions and worries melted away, overshadowed completely by
sensory pleasure. “Mmmmm, I’m not ready to get out,” she protested. “It just feels so good in here, Brock.” Brock’s eyes darkened with interest as she lifted her hands to her breasts and slid her fingers over her muddied skin. Experimentally, she shoved her tits together so that they made a squelching sound then released them to create slow ripples. “Are you sure it’s time to get clean, Brock?” Brock watched her hand disappear into the liquid earth. Carmen lifted her feet up to the bench on either side of her and sat, splayed like a frog, with her knees above the surface of the bath. “I wish I could tell you how good this feels,” she whispered. A soft smile played on her lips as she found the slickened entrance to her pussy with her hand.

  Brock swallowed. He stole a glance towards the entrance of the bathing cavern. The smooth stone archway flickered in the warm torchlight. “Believe me when I say that I’d love nothing more than to join you,” he admitted, “but we should really be getting out of here. It’s not entirely, uh, appropriate…”

  Carmen’s mouth fell open as her fingers pushed their way between her legs. “It’s like this stuff is making everything more sensitive somehow,” she murmured, oblivious to his concerns. “Every bit of my skin seems more alive now, as though there were extra nerves and blood in it.” She found her swollen G-spot with one fingertip. “Oh, God,” she groaned, “even the bumps of my knuckles going into my cunt feels like heaven.” Carmen slowly ground her hips against her hand, creating gentle, sloppy waves. Beneath the surface of the crystal-clear stream, she saw Brock’s penis stiffen once more.

  “Fuck it,” he grunted, and heaved his body back into the mudbath with a plopping splash.

  Brock covered Carmen’s mouth with his and thrust his tongue inside. He settled between her raised knees and pulled her hand away. “My turn,” he said roughly and pressed his erection between her legs.

  Carmen slid her hand between the clenching cheeks of his rump and found his tight hole with one fingertip. He pushed his shaft, already thick and engorged, into her cunt as she eased her finger in and out of his ass. “Nice?” she whispered.