Date: Tue, 11 Apr 2006 12:40:42 -0700 (PDT)
From: Dirk Orton <xgort@yahoo.com>
Subject: Blizzard Ride

BLIZZARD RIDE by Zipper Bird, Copyright 2006

xgort@yahoo.com

"Hey there Frankie, how's it going?" Paul said as he rolled down his window
while pulling into the freshly shoveled driveway of our house. I leaned
against the shovel, happy to have finished my work just in time, and ready
to go.

"I guess Santa didn't get you that new Jag you wanted" I said, looking at
the same blue VW that drove me home from college four weeks earlier.

"Nope, not this year, maybe just as well. This old Volkswagen is probably
better in the snow. How we doin' on time, am I late?"

"A little, but good, considering. The weather guy says were supposed to get
another eight to ten more inches. My parents didn't want me to go. Wanted
me to wait `till tomorrow. Had an argument with them about it. But now that
you're here, I`m going."

I lifted the garage door and got my two bags and duffle that contained a
pillow and new down-filled coat I got for Christmas, as Paul opened the
trunk of his car, which is under the front hood of a Volkswagen. His things
were all in the back seat already.

I ran back to the front door of the house to say a quick good bye to my
mother and she was coming out of the kitchen dressed in her coat, carrying
a large box and a family sized thermos, the kind that we used at picnics
which holds two quarts.

"I'm coming out dear, to make sure you take this. I'm sure your driver
hasn't eaten lunch and I think you might just want to drive straight on
through without stopping, if this snow gets any worse."

"Okay Ma," I relented, as I took the heavy thermos and box from her arms. I
was happy she was going to let me go and not try to convince Paul to stay
overnight. The box looked like it contained at least six sandwiches and who
knows what else. Probably enough to feed the whole hall in the dorm at
Cornell. As I opened the car door to find a place to put the thermos and
box in the back seat, mother bent down to talk to Paul.

"Now you drive carefully, this handsome future doctor is my baby."

I laughed with embarrassment.

"Will do, Frankie's Mom, haven't lost a baby doctor yet," Paul said.

Mother gave me two twenties from her pocket in case we had to stop at a
motel in Syracuse or Cortland because of the snow. That made sense, but it
wasn't like it was going to snow three feet in the next three hours. They
said it was only going to be a foot more at the most.

Although it was Sunday, my father had gone into work at his hardware store
on the square in Watertown. With the snow, and all the people coming in to
buy shovels, salt, and chains for their car, his employees probably needed
some help. After kissing mother goodbye, and waving, as we pulled away from
our street, I sat back and relaxed.

"So, how are things in Gouvemanure?"  That was everyone's nickname for
Gouverneur, Paul's home town, thirty-five miles north of Watertown.

"Shitty, very manurey, as always," Paul said. "Except I got some cool
things for Christmas. The old man got me a tent and new sleeping bag, which
I got in back there. Had to bring that along or my little sister would turn
it into a cat house, or a litter box or something."

We were both looking forward to getting back to Cornell. It was my first
year there, but after one semester, I already liked Ithaca a lot more than
Watertown, NY. Watertown, the city where I grew up, the shitty that always
sleeps. The nicest thing about Watertown, was that it was near Lake
Ontario, about twelve miles away. I often wished they'd built the city
right on the lake instead of inland. Watertown made almost everywhere else
I went seem much nicer in comparison, especially Ithaca.

I had just met Paul, my ride back to school, four weeks earlier, when he
gave me a ride home to Watertown for Christmas break. I saw his card up on
the ride board at the student union, that he was looking for a rider who
lived near him and wanted to travel both ways. When he came to pick me up
for the ride home, I realized I saw him around campus a few times but we
never spoke. I noticed him because, well, he's good looking, with thick
dark hair, and really nice body too. After having spent the hours in the
ride up with him, it was like we were friends, the kind of easy connection
you make sometimes with people who are from where you were raised. During
Christmas vacation, I kept thinking of Paul, even when I jerked off
sometimes. All vacation, I was looking forward to the ride back to school,
more than school itself, although I missed that too.

I just finished my first semester at Cornell and was living in a dorm on
campus. Paul was a senior, in a house in town with four other guys and a
girl. There was an on-campus housing crunch at Cornell, and some guys who
wanted to live in my dorm were on a waiting list. My roommate Martin, was
okay to live with, but a chess fanatic. I didn`t even play. Martin had a
close friend who was a junior and always in our room hanging out. I did
most of my studying in the library, just to get away from them.

On the ride home weeks before, Paul and I felt an immediate bond aside from
both being from the same area in the north country of New York, in that
neither of our families were rolling in doe, unlike most of the other
students at Cornell. I was there on a national merit scholarship, which
paid for my tuition, and majoring in pre med. Paul was getting his degree
in engineering. His father was a plumber and like me, Paul was the first in
his family to go to college. He had an older brother who worked as a
plumber and I had an older brother who worked in my father's hardware
store.

Other than our economic backgrounds and northern New York State origins, we
didn't have that much in common. Paul was on the wrestling team, and talked
a lot about that. He also talked about his last girlfriend, Becky, from
Ithaca college. They split up last year when she graduated. He didn`t go
into specifics but it was something about another guy she met over the
summer, and it not mattering too much because by the time she graduated,
their relationship had gone on the rocks anyway.

When I mentioned that I was in gymnastics, Paul, like most people who have
some interest in the sport, knew only the name Olga Korbut, the Russian
dynamo who ignited interest in gymnastics as the big star of the previous
year's 1972 Olympics. Back then, gymnastics was like figure skating. It was
the females who were the stars, and only those inside the sport knew names
of the male gymnasts. I was pleased he knew something about gymnastics
though, and seemed to think it was cool.

I didn't tell Paul that in addition to gymnastics, I was also taking dance
classes, and that I was gay, and even though I liked Cornell sometimes I
considered transferring to a larger metropolitan school where I could get
better dance training and meet more gay men. My height, 5'10" was always
kind of a disadvantage in gymnastics. I made it to twelfth in the State
all-around in high school, far from Olympic material. However, I had the
perfect body for modern dance, with all the required coordination and
flexibility. My dance teacher at Cornell, who had danced with Martha
Graham, thought I should audition for the Graham troop after I had a few
more years training. I was considering it, and delaying medical school for
a year or two, but not until I finished my undergraduate degree.

"Come on, a good looking guy like you, you've got to have a girlfriend?"
Paul had said on the drive home for Christmas vacation.

"Well, I had a few in high school."

I imagined telling Paul about the mess that led to the split with my last
girlfriend, and having him pull over and leave me by the side of the
road. I broke up with Molly in my senior year, after having sex with a guy
for the first time in my life, a gymnast named Vince. Vince was from
Syracuse, and my main competition at sectionals. The year before, when I
was a junior, although I came in second, I beat Vince for all-around at
sectionals by one place, and he pointed his finger at me after the awards
ceremony saying "I'm gonna get you next year." It was just my luck that I
finally meet another gymnast who I think is really hot looking, and he
won't even talk to me, except to make this vendetta. It was hard to tell if
he was kidding or serious, or if he had a screw loose. Another guy on his
team told me that with Vince, it was a screw loose. He was a rich, spoiled
brat, who always had to win.

When I was a senior in high school, sectional gymnastics finals were held
in Vince's city, Syracuse. Host families put out-of-town gymnasts up for
the two day meet. The week before the meet, when I got the name and address
of the family that was going to host me, it was hard to grasp; it was
Vince's. At first I thought he chose me so he could poison my food or maybe
smother me in my sleep. His parents had a sprawling house in the hills near
Syracuse that had a separate guest house where I stayed alone. After
dinner, where Vince's ostensibly normal parents did most of the talking and
Vince did most of the staring, Vince walked me out to the guest house.

When we got in the beautiful one room cottage, after we stood staring at
each other for a few seconds, he pushed me back on the bed and told me I
was going to give him a blowjob, or he'd tell everyone I was queer. Still,
we managed to have some hot sex, even if I didn't like getting blackmailed
into it. Vince left some teeth marks on my shoulder and I spent the next
day explaining to my coach and everyone else who noticed, that a garden
rake fell on me before I left home, but that I was okay. Vince got a
rakishly insipid grin on his face when he overheard a gymnast ask me about
the marks on my shoulder. I felt like walking over to him and telling him
I'd bite his pecker off if he ever pulled something like that again. But I
didn't say anything to him, because I wanted to have another crack at him
that night.

Vince and I were not a match made in heaven, since we were rivals at the
meet that day where I beat him in all but one event. I winked at him after
he blew his dismount on the high bar in what otherwise was a routine that
would have received scores high enough to beat me. Sex with him was more
like wrestling than love, but the next night I got even. When he walked me
to the guest house after dinner, when we closed the door behind us, he
pulled his pants down and I grabbed his cock like I was going to blow him,
but instead said, "I had enough of your little pecker the other
night. How's about giving me a piece of that hot ass of yours lover boy."

"If you can pin me, you can have it," Vince spat out, with a maniacal but
sexy glint in his eye.

He thought he was stronger than me because his biceps were bigger but I
struck quickly, and had him pinned on his back in seconds, using a move my
older brother taught me, where one knee does something not allowed in
competition. I sat on his chest and made him suck my dick nicely, telling
him "That's what you'd better do unless you want to get dry fucked."

"Don't be afraid Vince," I said as I got him on the bed with his legs bent
back over his head. "Maybe I'll fuck some of my winner's jizz into you, and
tomorrow you'll get a first place in something besides horse." Once I got
it into him, I gave him the hardest driving fuck I could pound into
him. The mattress practically came off the bed frame. I wanted to leave him
sore, but where it wouldn't show. But he liked it. Vince really liked it.

The next day in the all-around final, I dominated him in all but two events
at the meet, pommel horse and high bar. He landed his double-tuck dismount
this time, so maybe the fuck did help. After that weekend, although I had
no intention of seeing Vince again, I told my girlfriend Molly she should
date my best friend John, who liked her a lot, and that I wasn't right for
her. It turned out fine. They clicked right away and a few weeks later she
thanked me for getting them together. I knew after the two sex experiences
with Vince, that some day I wanted to find a guy who looked something like
Vince, but who wasn't a jerk.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Paul was glad to have someone to share the trip with. Driving the three and
a half hours from Gouverneur to Ithaca could get boring. And we shared gas,
not that a VW took that much. After four weeks at home, it felt good to be
headed back to school, getting away from the confinement of home, leaving
the hoopla of Christmas and New Year's behind, and having someone to talk
to on the trip. And as I mentioned, I was looking forward to spending more
time getting to know Paul. I was day dreaming about erotic questions I'd
like to ask him about his masturbation habits and other taboo topics when
he spoke up.

"So, what'd you get for Christmas Frankie? Mama get her baby boy a new
rattle or something?" Paul asked, as we pulled onto the entrance to the
interstate which would get us though to Syracuse.

I punched him in the arm for the crack about my mother who for some reason,
enjoyed embarrassing me by calling me her "baby" in front of other people,
ever since I was little.

"You shut up about my Ma. Fuck! Didn't you see Psycho? Don't you know a
boy's best friend is his mother?" I said in mock indignation. Paul laughed.

"To answer your question, let me see, I got socks, some books, a couple of
shirts, a new pacifier to suck on since I can't reach my own dick. Nothing
as cool as a sleeping bag, but I got a coat with a hood that looks like the
kind Eskimos wear."

"Well that'll make you stand out on campus, the pacifier I mean, not the
coat."

"I'm not going to suck it in public, you Gouvemanure hick. I'm going to use
it in the semi-privacy of my dorm room. A pacifier might come in handy when
I'm jerkin off at night. I won't be waking my roommate by calling out my
own name when I shoot the wad."

"You're crazy Frankie!" Paul laughed. "You're gonna make me drive off the
road. And who are you calling hick." as Paul punched me in the arm. "Like
Watertown is full of high cultured shit. Gouvemanure has a major cultural
institution I`ll have you know, our fine St. Lawrence state
hospital. Loonies beating off there and screaming out loud with out any
pacification at all."

"Oh I'm sure they are! And probably having circle jerk onto a cracker last
one to cum eats it parties every night, just like the engineering frat does
during pledge week."

While still laughing, Paul said "And you're going to be a doctor? Your
patients are going to herniate if you get them laughing this hard. Where do
you come up with these things?"

"You being a fuckin' engineer, probably can't even drive a train yet. We
pre-medical students read important books like Psychopathia Sexualis and we
have to know about these things. We know more about sex than all you circle
jerk engineers combined."

"I thought you said these circle jerks were at our state hospital, or in
frats. I'm not in a frat."

"You're an engineer and you're from Gouvemanure aren't you? Engineers,
mental patients, they've all been mixing blood up in your town for
generations now. Didn't your parents teach you anything about blood lines
and your background?

"Speaking of bloodlines, half of Watertown is probably up in our state
hospital too," Paul said.

"That's true enough probably. You got me there. A few years spent in either
or our towns and they practically give you a decision; it's either an Ivy
League school or the loony bin. We just chose the Ivy League. I have
compassion for all those people stuck in that institution, sedated out of
their minds on thorazine. They turn `em into zombies. They are too drugged
out to even jerk themselves let alone do something as fun as a circle jerk,
believe me."

"Oh I believe you Frankie, because you're going to be a doctor. Just keep
me away from your operating room. You'd probably turn me into a woman or
something."

"No Paul, I guarantee I wouldn't do that. You are too hairy, I'd have to
turn you into a chimp."

"You bastard, you're just jealous, because your skin is like a peach."

"You got me there, I wish I had hair like yours. It's coming in. I'm
growing still. You got the real man hair. I'm still a boy."

"Gee, I'd be happy to give you some of this hair, sometimes I think I have
too much."

"No you don't. It is just right."

As the hour went by, the snow started falling heavier as we neared
Syracuse, I let Paul concentrate on his driving. At least there were enough
cars on the thruway to keep the road clear, although traffic slowed down to
about forty because of visibility.

As Paul focused intently on the road ahead, I looked at his legs, spread
wide, his strong wrestler's thighs in tight jeans. He was medium height,
had a good looking face with a crooked nose that looked like it was
probably broken at one time. One characteristic that turned me on about him
was the hair I teased him about. I hit puberty late and shaved only once
every three days. Paul had the kind of dark beard density that gave him
gave him a five o'clock shadow a few hours after shaving. Although we found
it easy to talk to each other, and he seemed to like me, the way he talked
about his girlfriend on the trip up didn`t give me much hope that he was
gay or a bisexual. At least he didn't go on and on about girls though, or
talk about his conquests or need for pussy. On the trip up, he hadn't been
craning his neck to check out every young woman driver who passed us in the
left lane, as some men would.

It felt good to get Paul laughing. He got all my jokes, and liked being
with me. He had more bite in his come backs than anyone I knew. I thought
we might become friends when we got back to school. During the times he
took a break from driving, like when we stopped for lunch on the way up
weeks before, I caught him looking at me a few times in a way not many men
do. Maybe it was my green eye and my hazel eye. That unusual feature
sometimes makes people look at my face longer, trying to figure out what is
different about it.

Paul pulled the VW into a rest area just before Syracuse. He got out to
take a leak back by a tree as I stretched my legs in the falling snow which
seemed to be getting heavier by the minute. When we got back in, Paul
reached for a bag in back and pulled out a sandwich.

"What did your mother put in that big jug?"

"Moonshine. Do you want some? No, just kidding. It is hot chocolate made
with milk. It is just going to go bad if we don't drink it."

"Sure, sounds great" Paul said. "I forgot to pack something to drink,
except water, which I always bring on trips."

I got the jug out of the back, along with the box of food, which had some
large cups in it, and Paul held one as I poured one for him and then one
for me.

After we finished the cups of hot chocolate, I felt warm and unzipped my
jacket. Paul took off his jacket and removed a turtle neck he was wearing
over a tee shirt, and then put his jacket back on, just zipping it up at
the bottom. Released from its confinement, a small tuft of chest hair at
his collar jumped out and gave me a catch in my throat. I wanted to pet it.

"Better get on, looks like we're gonna get some snow here," Paul said, as
he smiled at me.

As we headed through Syracuse, the snow started to get heavier.

"Boy, it's really coming down." Paul said. "Lucky I didn't start any
later."

"If it gets really bad, we could stay in a motel in Cortland I suppose,
that's what my mother gave me the money for."

Usually the drive down the interstate between Syracuse and the exit to
Ithaca takes only about fifteen minutes, but traffic started slowing to a
crawl, as a wind began blowing across the thruway that reduced visibility
to nothing. It was near white-out conditions and by the time we got to the
Cortland, the exit off the thruway was barely visible, and it was getting
dark.

We drove near one small motel that was open this time of year in Cortland
but the lot was full and as we approached the large sign of the hotel,
through the heavy snow I could just make out two words in neon, in smaller
letters. "NO VACANCY." Paul's radio was broken so we couldn't hear if a
snow emergency had been declared, and since we were only twenty miles from
Ithaca, we decided to go on. Even if it took us four hours, going five
miles an hour, we'd make it. Or so we thought.

It was pitch black as we sped out of Cortland at seven miles per
hour. There were swirling sheets of powder dancing among heavy blankets of
snow falling from the sky. Paul gripped the wheel in concentration, his
head close to the windshield straining to see, windshield wipers beating
away madly, as we headed down narrow Route thirteen at a crawl. Driving on
the interstate before Cortland, even in these conditions, was easy in
comparison since it had been daylight and there were always the taillights
of other cars to follow. In the darkness, with the headlights glaring on
the snow, it was hard to see anything more than a few yards in front. The
Volkswagen held the road well and along the way we counted four cars that
were stranded at the side, mostly big American boats. They looked like
they'd been there for a while. Even in the year 1973, a ten year old
Volkswagen was the best car to drive in the snow, other than something with
four wheel drive, and the VW was probably better than some of those.

A few hours later and twelve miles out of Cortland, with eight more to get
to Ithaca, the snow hadn't let up in the least and if anything was getting
worse. In addition, at one point, passing from Cortland into Tompkins
County, the road looked like it hadn't been plowed in hours and the snow on
the road slowed us almost to a stop. It was impossible to distinguish the
road from the shoulder, or the ditch beyond. They blended into one. On the
side of the road, new snow brought the sloping pile up to three feet, since
it was on top of snow they probably got a few days earlier. The road was
deserted. We hadn't seen headlights for the last twenty minutes.

"Well, I guess they'll delay registration until Tuesday, not many people
are going to make it in now, unless they came in yesterday or earlier this
morning." We were guaranteed spots for classes in our major, but it was
always a rush to get in the more desirable elective courses.

"Yeah. But what should we do now? If there was a motel along here, we could
stop but there isn't. They're all closed this time of year anyway."

I couldn't see a thing in the clouds of blowing white, except the dull glow
of a light that was above a large sign that had snow stuck on it. Even
though Ithaca was probably only seven or eight miles away, Paul wanted to
pull off the road, just for a while, to see if the snow would let up, or
wait until the plow came along. I thought it was a good idea. The worst
that could happen is we would have to wait until morning, and then wait for
someone to come along and help us out. It wasn't like we were stranded out
in the middle of nowhere, in Montana or something.

In order to avoid being hit by a plow or another driver, Paul turned off by
the lighted sign. We drove for another hundred yards and came on a small
area where I could just make out what were probably snow covered picnic
tables and a lean-to. The road looked like it may have been plowed not too
long before, or had been a place the snow plow used to turn around. It was
hard to tell. Even in the road, there was eight inches of new snow.

"Look at that, a lean-to."  I said pointing. "We could probably live there
until Spring thaw if we had to."

Paul stopped the car, turned the headlights and windshield wipers off, but
kept the engine and heater on. He let his grip off the steering wheel and
sat back slowly in his seat. His shoulders sank down and he was quiet.

"You alright guy?" I said.

"Boy did I ever get tensed up from that driving. I think I got cramps in
the back of my neck and back." He squeezed the back of his neck with one
hand. He turned his back toward me. "Do you think you could just push in,
the middle of my back there?" He pointed to a place on his back.

"Sure, I can do better than that Paul. Our coach taught us how to do
massage, especially after rings and horse, which can knot you up."

"Here, take your jacket off, while we still got the heat on." I helped him
off with his jacket and began a kneading massage starting at his neck and
going down to his shoulders and back. I pushed in with both thumbs on each
side of his spine, all the way down, and rubbed his muscles in circular and
kneading motions.

"Oh God, that feels good. Don't stop."

I grabbed his sides all the way down to the waist, squeezing and massaging
every muscle and bone in his sides and back, using all the techniques I
knew. As I returned to working on the muscles in his shoulders and back, I
could feel as they loosened and he relaxed. He had nice wide shoulders with
great muscle definition, all the way down his back.

After ten minutes of massage, him groaning with pleasure from time to time,
I couldn't help feeling the pleasure myself, the power of playing his body
like an instrument. When I was finished, I grabbed the thick dark hair at
the back of his head, gave it a little tug, and patted him on the back.

"So let's have something to eat, eh? I`m starved."

"Wow, thanks so much, that felt great. They should hire you for the
wrestling team."

I got the food box from the back seat and handed Paul a sandwich and opened
the bag of potato chips. We also poured out what remained of the still warm
hot chocolate.

"Boy, I think I love your mother Frankie," Paul said as he bit into a roast
beef and pickle sandwich she packed. "Aren't mothers great sometimes?"

I agreed but felt guilty at that moment, for the many times I'd given her
flack for fussing too much. This time, her fussing was going to help us
stay warm, avoid hunger, and have enough energy to make it through the
frigid night.

Paul turned off the engine, to save gas. I could tell he was beat from the
concentration of hours of driving, but elated to be stopped and have it
quiet. No engine. No windshield wipers. We sat and listened to the wind and
watched the snow pile up on the car for a few minutes. It was beautiful,
and intimate, sitting there in the eye of the storm.

Well, I know what we're gonna do instead of just sitting here all night.

What? I asked.

We'll check out that lean-to over there, the one you saw. See if we can
pitch the tent under it, you know the one I got for Christmas, and both of
us can sleep there. Can't run the engine for the heat, we'd run out of
gas. And I don't want to stay in this car. Spent the whole day in it
already.

"But what am I gonna sleep in, you only have the one sleeping bag.?"

"Oh I got an old blanket back there" Paul motioned toward the back seat.

I started thinking that I could put on all the clothes that would fit and
wear my snorkel coat on top of a a couple of sweaters.

"Wait, I know what we can do." Paul said. "You`d be better off just getting
in the sleeping bag with me. We'd both be warmer. Dad got me a large size,
said it was to give me some kicking room. Hell, we probably need to sleep
together to survive. This bag is supposed to be good down to forty or
something, and it is probably going to be more like twenty tonight. You
don't want to wake up like a popsicle do you?"

"Okay then, let's do it." I said. It was something I wouldn't have dared
suggest, but now that he did, I was thinking of how much fun it would
be. Even though he was straight, this would still be a good way of getting
close to him, staying warm, and just surviving.

 The temperature continued to drop well below freezing but wind blowing the
snow, especially the fine powder blowing around, made it seem colder. Paul
got dressed in extra clothes and put a wind breaker on over his jacket and
then he got my duffle with heavy coat out of the trunk.  I was thankful to
put on my down-filled nylon snorkel coat with the hood before going
outside. It was the only thing to be wearing in weather like this. Wearing
a hood, the snow didn't pile up on my head, as it did with a hat. We got
things from the back seat, and I got a bag of clothes from the trunk. In
two moves, we got things from the car to the lean-to. The roof of the
lean-to had thick post and beam timbers supporting it. No way that was
going to fall down, even with snow piling on its roof.

Paul said he had practiced setting up the tent once when he was at home, so
he knew where all the parts were and how to do it. I held a flashlight
while he put the thing together in about ten minutes, helping him when he
asked me to. It was a small, low, two person pup tent, higher on one end,
and cleverly designed to require minimal staking. The lean-to we stood
under was about six feet high at the center, and ten feet wide by eight
feet deep, open in the front.

Snow had drifted fairly evenly into the lean-to. The tent had a thick
waterproof bottom sewn in, and Paul had pitched the tent on a level spot in
the snow, near the back wall of the lean-to. After being in the warm car,
working outside left Paul feeling cold. "Jesus Frankie, sometimes I get
cold sleeping out in the summer. I'm counting on you to be warm enough to
keep me from freezing into an icicle." We took our final pee for the night
and Paul brushed himself off and crawled through the flaps. I followed him
in and turned and zipped the flaps closed.

"I'm really glad you're here Frankie. You know, I just wanted someone to
talk to during this ride but now, I'm telling you, I don't know how I'd
feel about having to sleep alone out in a storm like this. Man, nothing
like this ever happened to me before. But you're here, acting like its no
big thing, makes me feel we're gonna be okay."

"Hey, it is no big thing and we are gonna be okay. And I feel the same
way. I`m glad you`re here too. I can see my father driving me down in his
old Buick in this snow. His blood pressure would have gone through the
roof. We would have been off the road in a ditch by now. You did a great
job getting us this far."

Paul rolled the sleeping bag out and put the blanket under it for some
extra insulation. We could pile clothes on top, if we needed to. We felt
like two kids, having an exciting adventure, doing something neither of us
had done before. As we arranged things, we traded stories about big snows
we had in our towns growing up, like the blizzard in Watertown and parts
north, where after roads were plowed, there were piles of snow eight to
twelve feet high on the sides of the roads. No school for two days. After a
few minutes of talking, it was getting near ten, and we decided it would be
warmer in the sleeping bag.

"We should take all our clothes off. In this bag, we need to be dry, to
stay the warmest we can. We need to take everything off just to fit
anyway." Paul said.

"Even my underwear?" I asked.

"What's a matter, you don't trust me? I read a book on survival Frankie,
they said sleep naked, it's warmer that way."

"Okay then. I trust you. Hey, I wanna stay warm too, we'll do it your
way. Just don`t complain about my skin being softer than your last
girlfriend's."

I got my pillow out of the duffle and when Paul saw it he said "Oh good,
our pillow. Just like home except our beds have landed on top of each
other." We laughed.

"You get in first, on your side, and I'll get in behind you, like spoons,
that's the only way we're going to fit. Don't worry, I won't try and screw
you or anything." Paul said chuckling.

After stripping all my clothes off, getting in the bag fast was automatic,
since it was cold in the tent. Closing the zipper after Paul got in would
be the trick, but it was on his side. We wouldn't have both fit in, had the
bag not been half again wider than a regular sleeping bag. I spread my down
filled coat over the lower one third of the bag and put some pants and
other clothes at the side, so I could set them on top of us once we were
settled in.

As Paul got in he put his right arm over me and pulled his body tight
against mine, squeezing me, like we were wrestling.

"Got ya" he said.

He was used to wrestling guys and this kind of contact was natural for him,
but even he usually did it with clothes on. I could feel his chest hair on
my back and his thick bush against my ass. We said nothing. After ten
minutes, we both felt warm. I was comfortable, and glad that he was at my
back. The warmer I got, the more I liked the feel of his full body hug. I
felt my dick getting hard and I pressed it into the side seam of the bag
which was a good safe place for it.

Finally, both of us, so talkative on the way up, were completely silent for
several minutes. I shut my eyes and listened to the blowing snow. I could
feel Paul's warm breath on the back of my neck.

After a few minutes, wondering if my boner would ever go away and I'd be
able to sleep at all, I felt Paul's hand and forearm gently increase its
pressure on my chest, as something soft brushed against the back of my
neck, either his nose or his lips, but I thought it might be my imagination
until he spoke.

"You smell good Frankie. You awake?"

"Yup" I answered.

"I think you might be right about your skin being soft, but I'm not
complaining. You aren't going to be mad at me are you, but I think I might
be getting a boner. I get horny all the time. Don't hate me."

That was all I needed to hear. I turned to face him and grabbed him around
the shoulders. "You mean horny like this?" I said as I pressed by stiff
dick into his stomach. You smell pretty damn good yourself you fucker. Like
I could eat you up right here, so don't go messin' with my head telling me
I smell good okay?" I kissed him deep, shoving my tongue down his throat,
while wrapping my arms around him.

 After we broke for air, Paul said "This is the first time, doing this with
a guy, Do you believe me?"

"Well there's a first time for everything isn't there sweetie. Don't you
worry about it, I'm going to fuck you real nice since its your first
time. Won't do anything you say doesn't feel good."

"Wow, I must be a real homo or something, `cause I liked it when you called
me sweetie."

We kissed some more. I pumped my dick slowly between his thighs as he moved
with me, his stiff cock trapped between our chests. Soon I shot a sticky
load. Then I raised myself a few inches higher in the bag and placed his
cock between my thighs, using some of my cum to lubricate them, as I
squeezed his dick and let him pump until he shot his load.

We held each other for a while kissing and both started to get hard
again. I grabbed his hard cock and held it.

"You horny fucker, I'm gonna give you a good taste of something I could
really do for you. I know you'll like it " Wetting my left index finger in
my mouth, I slipped my hand between his thighs and finding his ass hole,
eased the finger in.

"Oh that feels good." Paul said.

As I moved my finger in pressing for his prostate, I grabbed both our cocks
with my other hand and rubbed and stroked them together until we both came
within a few seconds of each other.

"Wow, that was great!" Paul said. "That was the best fuck I've ever had,
and no one except me has ever put a finger up my ass like that before. I
guess I can tell you, sometimes I jerk off with a finger up there."

"Well, when we get back to school, I got something a lot hotter than a
finger for your sweet ass, if your interested. You have some learning to do
baby, I'm just the guy to teach you, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I do. I think we should try that, like tomorrow when we get back."

After kissing and touching some more, and a few words of prayer -- we both
thanked God for the snowstorm -- we got in our spoon position and fell
asleep holding each other, with our heads on the same pillow.

In the morning, at dawn, the sound of a snow plow right outside the tent
woke us both up. A voice called out.

"You okay in there?"

I unzipped the tent, stuck my head out, and saw a red faced worker standing
outside his snowplow.

"Yup, just spent the night here, trying to get back to school in Ithaca." I
shouted over the noise of his plow.

"Your car okay? Don't need a tow or anything do ya?"

"No, no, car's working fine, just too much snow on the road last night."

"Well, roads all plowed out for you now, you won't have no problem, got
almost three feet but stopped snowing around three this morning." He waved
and got back in his plow.

Paul was sleepy eyed, but smiling at me, as I zipped the tent flap up, and
lowered myself back in the sleeping bag.

"Well, good morning sunshine." I said.

"I'm a homo, ain't I."

"Yes, you are a homo baby. The best. You are one hot beautiful homo." I
kissed him.

"Now let's have some breakfast.  I broke out the last of the sandwiches and
the milk in the thermos was cool, but not freezing. After eating, warmed up
and wrestled a little in the sleeping bag, and played with each other's
peckers for a few minutes and then got dressed.

Sitting on the sleeping bag, and pulling my pants up, Paul pulled my
underwear down and kissed my dick.

"Now don't start that, or we'll never get out of here."

"I just wanted to kiss him goodbye, make sure he was tucked in okay," Paul
said.

The sun rose on a clear day. After getting out of the tent, Paul jumped up
and down and ran out into the field nearby. I followed in his tracks. The
snow was up to our waists. We threw snow balls at each other, calling each
other "homo." Paul kept tackling me in the snow, showing me what great
take-downs he could do even though I was ten pounds heavier and two inches
taller.

"Now, who's going to fuck who when we get back to my house?" he said as he
had me pinned down in the snow.

"You are going to fuck me?" I asked. "Anything you say." After he let me
up, I ran and shouted back, "No way you're going to fuck me you little
homo, not until I get my shaft into that sweet ass of yours first, that`s
all there is to it."

"Damn you, damn you!" Paul said as he ran after me, but I reached the car
before he could catch me for another tackle.

We got the snow brushed off ourselves and then cleaned the car, stomping
some tracks down for the front wheels to get us out of the snow bank and
into the freshly plowed lane. The car started up right away, and after a
few tries, we broke through and got out.

As Paul turned onto the main road, he said "It happened one night."

"What happened one night." I asked.

"It's like the old movie, with Clark Gable and Claudette something."

"Oh that movie." I said.

"Only in this version, what happened is, I found out I'm a homo."

"And how does that make you feel?" A question, I was to ask many times,
years later, in my practice of psychiatry.

"Well, I don't know, kind of queer I guess, but happy too. I mean I was
scared I might be one, but I never knew, until last night, and now, well,
doing it with you, it's good to know for sure. Now I can deal with it and
move on. I'm not going to cry about it."

"I can understand that." I said nodding.

I put my hand on his crotch, holding it gently and said. "You won't be
moving on from Ithaca will you?"

"Hell no! That's not what I meant. I just meant moving on from being afraid
about it, or avoiding that I'm a homo."

"Oh that's good." I said

"You have another guy at school? Like your roommate or something?" Paul
asked with a vulnerability in his voice.

"Look, the whole first semester here, I've been beating my meat into a
pulp, alone, just waiting to meet someone I wanted. And now, it happened
one night, last night, with you babe."

"Oh wow, that's great! We're each other's first." Paul said.

"Well, you're not my very first, there was a guy back in high school, but
fuck, that was just a two time thing, and it was nothing like you and me."

I told Paul a short version of the story about Vince the gymnast from
Syracuse and he said "Gee, that guy missed out on having a real cool
friend, because I think you are fun, funny, and just plain, well, sexy."

"Thanks babe. I feel the same way about you." I said, as I gently stroked
his rough day old beard at the side of his face with the back of my hand.

Before we pulled up to Paul's house, he prepared me to meet his five
housemates. He said they were all juniors in the engineering program, all
five from Long Island. Three of their cars were parked in the driveway of
the old Victorian house they shared. Paul wanted me to come in and meet
them, saying I'd like them, but when we got in the house, there was a note
on the table.

Paul! Me and guys got in early yesterday morning. Registration not until
Tuesday. Gone skiing today. Sorry you weren't here to come with. Drive up
to ski with us at Greek Peak if you want. Be back around 7PM."

Greek Peak was a ski area, outside of Cortland. Paul was surprised his
roommates went there since only two of them skied, but they must`ve wanted
to try something new on their day off.

"Well, that's why Josh's van is gone. Great! We have the house to
ourselves." Paul said.

I used Paul's phone to call my mother.

"Hi Ma, we're here fine. Yup, stayed in a motel in Cortland like you
said. No, it was only $12 for the night, so thanks for the money. You sure
you want me to keep the rest of it? Okay I will. Yes. Yes, he is a nice
guy. Yeah, I think he's going to be a good friend for me. Almost three feet
here. Yup, that's right. Three feet. Registration isn't until
tomorrow. Gotta go. I'll write to you. I love you too. Bye."

Get through to your Mom okay? Paul said as he was listening on the stairs.

"Yup, told her we stayed in a motel and that I fucked you silly. She said
she liked you, and thought you would make a good fuck, I mean friend, for
her baby. Ma is always right you know."

"What do you mean, fucked me silly?" Paul said. "You call that finger fuck
you gave me. . . I'm not even half silly from that. You're gonna have to
come up with something better than that boy?"

"I'm gonna get you" I said pointing my finger at him, realizing I sounded
like Vince when he said something similar to me. "You better run fast
little bunny, because if I catch you, I think I might just have to fuck you
right now."

"Yeah, but first you have to catch me" Paul said, as he ran up the stairs
and I tore after him. When I caught up to him in his room, I grabbed him
and we fell on the bed, and kissed and grabbed each other's crotches and
asses. And bit and nibbled at each other for several minutes.

"Come on baby" he said to me. "I want to show you around my house. After
that we can take a bath."

Paul's room was the only one with its own bathroom, and the only room on
the third floor in what used to be the attic of the tall narrow Victorian
house. It had one window in a dormer in the front and a big skylight in the
back part of the sloping roof, giving the room a shaped ceiling that
followed the roof line. The bathroom had a sink, toilet, and a big claw
foot tub and no shower. Paul took me on a tour of the first and second
floors, showing me one of the bedrooms of the three on the second
floor. Every time we stood looking at something, he liked grabbing me or
putting his arm around me, and then pulled me on by my hand. We liked
feeling each other's hair, smelling each other, and just touching and
feeling close.

"Other guys can't hear a thing from my room." Paul explained, as we headed
back up to his room. "Something about the way the floor space was
constructed between the floors. So I have complete privacy."

We brushed our teeth in his bathroom and Paul shaved, as he drew a tub of
hot water. Even thought it was his room, it felt comfortable already. I got
in the tub first and there was room enough for him to sit in front of
me. He leaned back into my arms and turned back to kiss me.  We washed each
other, and got aroused by feeling the wash cloth and each other's hands
doing what we usually did ourselves. Just looking at the beauty of his body
in the light, and under water, and feeling his chest hair really turned me
on.

After we helped dry each other off, I looked in his medicine cabinet and
pulled out a bottle of sun tan oil.

"What's that for? We gonna be getting some sun?"

"Well, yeah. You are. You're gonna get some of my sun up your ass baby," as
I grabbed one of his muscular butt cheeks. You're gonna love it, believe
me."

As Paul and I got in bed, his hair still moist, I got on top of him and
kissed him all over. It was great to be in a warm room with the freedom of
a large bed, being able to move without the constraint of a sleeping bag. I
sucked his half hard uncut cock into my mouth and played with the foreskin
with my tongue. I licked his balls and the skin on his inner thighs.

"Man that feels great, don't stop. I am so fuckin' queer for this."

"It is time for you, you handsome virgin homo. You know what I mean. I
wanna be inside you so bad." I reached for the oil and put some on my
finger and turned him so he was on all fours. I carefully inserted the
finger and moved it around. My prick was sticking straight up in
anticipation, almost hurting it was so hard wanting in. I withdrew my
finger and spread some oil on my dick. With one hand I guided the tip into
his ass hole, and pulled him back gently, easing my way in, as I gradually
began to fuck him slowly.

I reached around with my oily hand for his dick and started to jerk it
slowly.

I increased my rhythm, and felt Paul's cock getting harder in my hand..

"Oh fuck me Frankie, fuck me good. I need this so bad."

I increased my speed until I had a good comfortable rhythm going. The
feeling of taking power over this guy, being inside him was so great, I had
to hold myself back from coming. Then, when I felt him shoot sticky gobs
into my hand, I felt myself driving in and shooting into him.

"Oh man, that was fantastic." Paul said.

"Out of the world." I sighed.

"Oh Frankie, we gotta do this a lot. Tell me you want to do it again."

"Do it again. Hell, I want to fuck you all day, all week, all year."

And in a few minutes, we did it all over again and kept it up for a good
twenty minutes this time, and then both came again.

As Paul lay in my arms and we looked into each other's eyes, Paul said,
"You gotta live here with me. I'm not going to be able to sleep without you
Frankie. You wanna come live here with me?"

"But what will the guys think?

"Oh fuck the guys. It is my house. All the guys on the second floor have
two in their room. I got this house in the first place. I'm the lease
holder. We'll just get a single mattress that's in the storage closet and
put it over there in the corner. Throw some blankets on it and anyone who
sees it won't think twice. You and I got our own bathroom here. I lock my
door at night anyway. Besides, they'll do anything to have an extra person
sharing in the rent. Really, they'll want you to live here. Whadda ya say?

"Well, there is a waiting list for the dorm, and I'm sure if I call today
maybe, they can find someone for my room, and give me a refund. Sure let's
do it!"

I got busy and made a few calls to the housing office, and then to my
roommate in the dorm, and back to the housing office and it was all
arranged. Martin, my roommate in the dorm, was excited that his chess
playing friend, who had been wait-listed for the dorm, could now move
in. They were going to move in together next year anyway.

That day by noon, we completed the move of my stuff, and I took Paul out to
my favorite restaurant where I'd been only a few times before. I had my
mother`s motel money to spend. It was going to be great being out of the
dorm. We walked around the snowy streets in town, and it looked like
something out of a Christmas card. Our feeling for each other intensified
the beauty of everything. The reflection of light off the snow looked like
diamonds. After lunch, we headed up a hill trail that was near Paul's house
for a walk holding hands, be alone, and kiss, and roll down the hill
wrestling.

That evening we walked back to town. Although mid-January, all the
Christmas lights were still up. We stopped to look at our night reflection
in the shop windows, arms around each other. We went out for dinner at the
same restaurant, shared a bottle of wine, and the warm glow in the place
was nothing compared to the glowing feeling we both had inside. Outside in
the fresh night air, I put my arm around him and we walked down the mostly
deserted street not caring who saw us, not that anyone would recognize us
bundled up in winter clothes anyway. If they did see us, they just think we
were drunk. And we were drunk, on happiness.

When we got back to the house Paul's roommates were back from skiing,
finishing their spaghetti dinner, and they were in a great mood, and
actually welcomed me to the house after Paul introduced me and told them I
would be sharing his room. They were happy it would reduce their monthly
share of the rent, and that I wouldn`t be in their bathroom. There was also
a half bath on the first floor. Even though I wasn't an engineer, they
accepted me and were in awe when Paul told them about my scholarship. These
guys, and the one girl, were serious students, who all met in their
freshman year, only got drunk a few times a month. They didn't want the
whole frat scene.

When the year came to an end, Paul graduated with his degree in engineering
and found a job in Denver, Colorado. I transferred to University of Denver
and completed my pre-med and medical school there. After internship and a
residency in psychiatry at a Denver hospital, I entered private practice.

Paul and I are still together now, and both in our fifties. Sometimes we
argue, but we still make each other laugh a lot too. Our relationship isn't
always perfect. However, both of us consider that finding each other is the
best thing that happened one night in a blizzard, and the best thing to
ever happen to us period.

END

- - - - - - - - - - - Author's Notes:

If you enjoyed my story, you can find links to my other stories on Nifty,
under "Zipper Bird" through the "Author" index from the main Nifty page.

Please write if you would like to comment. Writers like to hear about
something in a story that a reader relates to. Or, especially, if there is
an aspect, or even phrase you liked in particular.

Lately, I find that my writing is inspired by Brokeback Mountain, although
I've been writing tent scenes for years. BLIZZARD is also inspired by my
memories of growing up in the snow belt of Upstate NY where this story is
set.

To counteract the pain and suffering in Brokeback, I enjoy writing this
romantic fluff. If you think you would enjoy reading a satire I wrote on
Brokeback, please write to me, and I will attach a copy, as long as you are
willing to write back with some helpful comments about what you liked and
didn't like about it.

 I also wouldn't mind having a general pen pal, who likes my sense of
humor, or my writing, and would like to communicate with me about anything
or everything.

xgort@yahoo.com