Date: Sun, 13 Jan 2013 06:13:21 -0800
From: h.schreiber@hushmail.com
Subject: Chapter 3 of Come Christmas Steve (conclusion) by Hans Schreiber

			   Come Christmas Steve
				 Chapter 3
		    The Woods are Lovely, Dark and Deep

	After sharing my childhood experience of my older cousin teaching
me how to masturbate up in the loft, we took turns swinging on the big rope
tied to the center support of the barn's roof a couple of times at Steve's
request. He held the thick rope in his gloved hand and tugged on it to test
that it was securely fastened to the large center beam. He hadn't taken the
bait from my question about jacking off with other guys and I was a bit
disappointed, but not really surprised. It had been worth a shot. I went
first on the rope swing to show him that he needed to push hard off the
ledge so he would have enough momentum to get back up onto the ledge on the
return. The beam creaked some under the strain of my weight. Steve was
smiling excitedly at me as I handed the rope over for him to give it a try
after I made my return to loft's edge.

       He snatched the rope and immediately pushed off the ledge, crying
out, "Woo-hoo!" as he reached the apex of the outward swing and headed back
toward the ledge. As we took turns swinging on the thick rope, I was
transported back in time to simpler days, as a young, carefree boy, when I
thrilled at the experience of firmly grabbing the grimy, rough, braided
rope and pushing off the ledge to swing freely through the air like a
superhero and back again.  I recalled how tightly I would grip the large
rope in my small hands. Once in a while, I'd miss the landing and have to
creep down the rope to the big knot in the end of it and then drop onto the
barn floor below. When that happened, one of my older brothers or my dad
had to help me retrieve the rope with a long pole and pull it back over to
the loft so we could swing on it again.

	"What's that thing?" Steve pointed to our old wooden slatted
toboggan with its sharply curled nose hanging on the wall. The wood was
worn and weathered from years of use and abuse from four young boys.

       "Oh that's a toboggan. Haven't you seen one of those before?"

	"No. What's it for?"

	"You ride it down a hill in the snow. It's super fun."

	"Oh. You just sit on it and go down the hill? Why is it so long?"

	"It's meant for a group to ride on. Me and all my brothers would
pile onto it and go down the hill over at McGregor's Farm. Sometimes we'd
fall off and go tumbling down in a giant pile, crashing over each other in
the snow. Sometimes, we'd build a jump in the middle of the hill and go
flying into the air. It was so much fun."

	"Sounds like it."

	"We could take it out tomorrow and try it if you want to. If you
look closely at the back right edge, you can still see the bloodstain where
I cracked my head open on it back when I was like eight or nine. My
brothers all laughed their butts off over it."

	"Ouch. Really? That explains a few things about you." Steve laughed
and I gave him a shove off the ledge since he was still holding the
rope. "HEY!" he yelled as he quickly gripped the rope more tightly and
flung off the ledge. I had to give him a hand up to get him back onto the
ledge.

	"So you still want to go try it out or did I scare you out of it?"
I asked.

	"I'd love to try it. It sounds great. A little blood doesn't scare
me."

       Once Steve and I finished up the chores, we headed inside. We had an
hour before dinner so we scurried up to my room. Steve picked up the guitar
and started strumming it. I handed him a pick and he played around until he
picked out the basics of Jingle Bells. He seemed to have a natural ear for
music. "How come you only know the words to Jingle Bells?" I asked.

	"Growing up, we always went to a farm at Christmas time where we
rode on this old wagon, sitting on bales of straw. We'd sing that song over
and over as we went out into the pasture amidst a herd of elk that wintered
there because the farmer fed them. I think that was the only song the
farmer knew. I loved seeing those magnificent elk, especially the proud
bulls. Their hot breath would blast from their nostrils like black, hairy
dragons. They would look at us with disdain, as if to warn us not to leave
the wagon, then they'd go on eating. Animals are so awesome. They just live
their simple lives, seeking satisfaction of their basic needs and nothing
more. Food, shelter, exercise, and sex in the mating season is all they
ever think about. They never take more than they need to survive - such a
simple, uncomplicated life."

	"Must be nice for them all right, although there is that whole food
chain issue where things are trying to make you their lunch. Oh, and
sleeping naked in the woods, especially in the winter, doesn't appeal to me
very much either. So why didn't you ever learn any other Christmas songs
besides Jingle Bells?"

	"I heard others, of course, but we never really sang or celebrated
Christmas in a big way, so I never learned the words to any other songs. It
was nice getting some new socks and boxers on Christmas morning,
though. That's what I looked forward to most about it."

	"What do you mean? That's not very exciting."

	"Ahh, nothing. Never mind. So do you remember anything about the
guitar you could teach me?" he pleaded, changing the subject and pointing
to the six string.

	"Barely. I tried but it just didn't take. Mom would be able to show
you more than me. She'd love it, actually. She loves music just like you
do."

	"You know, music is God's language. Poetry set to a melody
heightens the message. It's the ultimate means of communication as far as
I'm concerned."

	"There you go getting all deep on me again." Steve smiled and went
back to picking out Jingle Bells. Once he was occupied with picking and
grinning, I spun around in my chair and started surfing the internet
looking for a suitable present for my new friend. It was too late to order
anything, so I was just looking for ideas for something that I could
actually go buy in a store in Kalispell the following day.

	Dinner that evening was a repeat performance of the prior night
with the exception of Steve consuming massive amounts of Mom's meatloaf
instead of fried chicken. Billy was anxious to get finished so he could be
excused to go spend the night at Jaime's. I couldn't look at him or at
Steve directly, for fear I'd inadvertently reveal his secret. I was
uncomfortable with my parents' comments about what a nice boy Jaime seemed
to be and how they'd like to meet his family sometime. I nearly spit my
mouthful of peas and carrots out when they said that. It was quite
entertaining to watch Billy squirm over the possibility of having to
produce Jamie's parents someday. I couldn't help but wonder how much that
would cost him.

       Billy was so horny and randy by the time we finished our apple
cobbler dessert that I was surprised Dad couldn't see his hard on through
his pants. Billy was as jittery and edgy as any stud in heat I'd ever seen,
desperate to shove his dick into any willing mare. I wondered, as I studied
Dad's reaction to Billy's demeanor, if he didn't have some idea what Billy
was really up to but not really all that worried about it. I swear I almost
saw a bit of pride just under the surface of his stoic, weather worn face,
or maybe it was jealousy. I wondered if I could have gotten away with much
more than I did, which was really nothing for the most part. My idea of
cutting it up was tossing three M-80's tied together into the girl's locker
room. How could I know the PE teacher was standing there and would freak
out slicing her head open on an open locker from the explosion? I felt so
guilty about it that I ended up turning myself in to the vice
principal. Dad went overboard on punishing me for it. I was grounded for a
month and had to double up on chores around the ranch. Whenever Billy did
something like that with his brain dead friends, it was just considered
boys being boys and no big deal. Billy begged to be excused so he could go
over to Jaime's. He was given the usual admonitions to behave and to drive
safely. He kissed mom's cheek, thanked her for dinner, and then tore out
the door.

	"Mom, if you have time, Steve would like you to show him some
things on my guitar. He's interested in learning how to play it. Just some
basic chords and techniques, if that's okay with you?"

	"I'd be thrilled to teach him. It's about time that instrument got
some use."

	"I don't want to be any trouble. I'm sure you have plenty to do
getting ready for Christmas."

	"Don't worry about that, I'm well ahead of schedule. I'll clean up
the dinner while you get the guitar." Steve beamed over the opportunity to
learn an instrument. He excused himself and bounded up the stairs. Tom, Dad
and I poured our own coffee as Mom started clearing the table. Steve
returned seconds later with the guitar, beginner lesson books and a variety
of picks. He set the guitar down and started helping to clear the table. He
refused to let Mom help him with the guitar until the dishes were not only
cleared but washed, dried and put away. He even helped wipe down the
kitchen counters and stove top. I felt a little guilty watching it, so I
got up and helped. Tom moved into the great room and logged onto his laptop
and started looking at the next semester's classes he would be taking while
Dad started a fire in the great room's rock fireplace.

	When everything was done, Mom heaped praise on Steve for being so
good about helping her clean up. As soon as everything was cleaned and put
away, we all settled into the great room. Mom and I settled in on each end
of the couch and Steve sat in the middle. She opened the beginner book and
showed him some of the basic chords. Every now and then, I'd adjust one of
his fingers slightly or suggest curving his fingers a little bit more one
way or the other just to feel a part of the process. Steve was a
natural. He caught on quickly and got more and more excited as the lesson
progressed. He learned in two hours what had taken me two months. By the
end of the lesson, he was not just plucking out Jingle Bells, he was
playing it with a combination of some basic chords and picking specific
strings as well. Mom was very impressed, as was I. After the lesson, which
we'd all enjoyed watching, we all gathered in a circle and joined hands
while Dad said the evening blessing on our family. Mom was excited that
Karl would be coming home the next day and we would have our Christmas Eve
celebration as a complete family plus two, my roommate, Steve, and Cynthia,
Karl's girlfriend.

	"I hope you boys don't mind moving in with Karl and Tom, sleeping
on their floor when Cynthia comes. She'll need her own room," Mom
instructed. "I can make up a bed for you two out of quilts."

	"Oh. I hadn't thought about that," I began. Then it occurred to me
how backwards that was. "Wait, it's Karl's girlfriend. Why shouldn't he and
Tom move to my room and sleep on the floor? Steve's a guest too."

	"Well Karl and Tom are older and Tom has his computer all set up in
there already."

	"Big deal. It's a laptop. He can pick it up and carry it anywhere
he wants. So what if they're older? Why does that matter?" I whined.

	"For goodness sakes, Shane, stop being difficult. It's only for a
few nights and then they have to head back down to Bozeman," Dad
scowled. "Why do you have to be so selfish?"

	"Selfish? How am I being selfish? Why aren't Tom and Karl being
selfish?" I was getting more and more annoyed by the minute. Same old shit
I'd lived with my whole life. The older boys got the privileges, the
youngest one got the favors and as the youngest middle child, all I ever
got was trouble. "Fine. We'll move to their room, but Steve and I get the
bed. Karl and Tom get the floor."

	"That's not happening, little brother," Karl chimed in. "I got a
bad back, remember? You left your bicycle under the steps and I tripped
over it, wrecking my back. I can't sleep on the floor."

	"It wasn't me. I've told you a hundred times it was Billy who was
riding my bike and left it there. Besides, you've been milking that bad
back thing way too long. It always got you out of chores, but if there was
something fun to do, suddenly your back was fine," I shot back.

	"That's enough!" Dad boomed. "You'll move and you'll sleep on the
floor for a couple nights while Cynthia is here and you won't be whining
about it in front of her and Karl. Understood?"

	I put on my angry face, which I'd carefully perfected over the
years. My eyebrows pressed down, my lips scrunched into a tight little
circle, and I compressed my neck down into my shoulders. "It's not fair," I
grumbled. "Steve's a guest too."

	"I don't mind the floor. I've slept on the floor many times, and
without any nice soft quilts under me. I think it might be fun for a couple
days," Steve said to smooth out the conflict.

	I felt foolish then, having showed a side of me I'd rather have
kept buried, and I'd done it in front of Steve. It wasn't fair, though, and
more and more I'd grown tired of my family dynamic. I'd stepped up and done
Karl's chores as well as mine after he hurt his back. I got stuck with them
because Tom was too busy and Billy was too young and no one would believe
me that I wasn't the one to leave my bike where it didn't belong. I
scarcely got any appreciation for my efforts and in fact got criticized
several times for not doing things as well as he'd done them. I wanted to
explode over it back then, but I never did. I just put on my angry face and
stomped off to the loft to sulk and play with my dick. It became my escape
therapy. "Whatever. We'll move. Who cares? I'm tired; I'm going to my room
and sleep in MY BED. You coming, Steve?"

	"Umm, yeah. I'll be up in a while. I'd like to practice on the
guitar a little bit longer, if it's all right."

	"Of course it is," Mom interjected before I could answer. "You can
sit right here and do it. Add a log to the fire if you get cold. Make sure
the screen is pulled closed on the fireplace if you do add a log, so no
sparks jump out and catch the rug on fire."

	"Thank you. I appreciate the lesson Mrs. Steele," Steve said
sincerely.

	"Like I said, it's my pleasure. I'm thrilled to see how quickly you
picked it up. You really should pursue it," Mom told him.

       Then I got an idea - a grand idea, in fact. I felt much better
suddenly and bounded up the stairs. I'm not sure how long Steve practiced
on the guitar because by the time he finally climbed over me into bed, I'd
been long asleep. I jolted awake when he climbed over me to get to the
wall. I felt him shaking from the shock of the cold sheets once again so I
rolled lazily to my side and slid toward him. I made sure to keep my crotch
safely away from his ass and began rubbing his arms, chest and abs to warm
him up. He responded by reaching over and pulling my top leg up over his. I
rubbed the flannel PJ's over his legs to warm them up as well. I had to
reach down and into my PJ's to adjust my boner briefly and then resumed
warming him up. After several minutes, I asked, "Are you warm now?"

	"I am. Thanks."

	"You're welcome." Then I added, "I need to apologize for my
behavior tonight. I'm not usually like that. I just get tired of being
dumped on by my family sometimes, especially my brothers, and I sort of
snapped down there."

	"It's all right. I could tell you had some pent up anger and
figured there was more to it than just sleeping on the floor. I really
don't mind doing that, so don't worry about it."

	"Thanks for understanding." I gave his arm a squeeze and he gave my
thigh a return squeeze. "I need to go into town in the morning for some
last minute Christmas shopping. Do you want to come with me?"

	"Sure. I have a couple things I'd like to get too."

	"Good. We'll go right after breakfast then we can come back for
lunch and we can still take the toboggan out for a run before the family
party. Sound okay?"

	"Sounds great. Do you think I could find some time to practice the
guitar some more?"

	I smiled happily over that. "I'm sure you can fit some in." I gave
another squeeze to his arm and rolled away. I was thrilled by what a great
friend Steve was turning into. He understood me and didn't judge me at
all. He was so easy and safe to talk to. Slowly, I slipped my hand under
the waistband of my flannels and boxers and pressed my fingers around the
warm flesh of my engorged penis. I gripped little Shaney and his two best
friends and held them tight. I fondled my balls for a bit and realized how
badly I needed to spill some cum. I got up carefully from the bed and
fortunately, Steve didn't stir. I headed to the bathroom, dropped my
bottoms and boxers and sat on the cold lid of the throne. I pulled the
front of my t-shirt up over my head and tucked it behind my neck. Then I
gripped my stick and jerked myself off while I rubbed my chest and abs
vigorously like I'd done for Steve in the bed. Then I got the urge to be a
little nasty. I opened the drawer next to the toilet and pulled out the
round hair brush with the smooth plastic handle. I covered it with some
Vaseline Intensive Care lotion and then slouched down so that my tailbone
was barely on the edge of the toilet lid. My shoulder blades pressed into
the cold porcelain of the toilet tank lid. I lifted my heels up onto the
little wooden stool, painted pale blue with colored stars on it, that I and
all my brothers used to stand on when we were little to go pee and to wash
our hands. Mom kept it in there for the little boy cousins who come to
visit.

       I maneuvered the hair brush up underneath my ass and slid the
slippery handle between my cheeks and up into my boy cave as far as I could
until the bristles pressed against my ass cheeks. It had been a long time
since I'd enjoyed this guilty little pleasure and I reveled in the feeling
of having it up there, deep inside me. I worked it in and out slowly across
my prostate while I jacked my dick with my other hand. It wasn't long at
all before I was rewarded with a powerful orgasm. The intensity of each cum
shot was heightened from the presence of the brush handle pressed firmly
against my boy joy button. My ass quivered and pulsated on the handle as I
shot my load. "Oh, yeah, cum Shaney cum!" I spoke out loud as my balls
unloaded the warm cum onto my cold chest. I shuddered, both from the thrill
of the expulsion and the chill in the air. Goosebumps had formed on my
exposed flesh. When it was over, my muscles constricted on the handle and
refused to relax. I had to use some force to remove it, which was in its
own strange way erotic to me. Feeling satiated and strangely warm from the
inside out, I wiped up with the TP off the roll held out by a little wooden
statue of a cowboy. My Mom had purchased the little wooden statue at the
county fair years ago and thought it was clever. My brothers and I thought
it was creepy. We named him Cowboy Tom, as in 'Peeping Tom' and as a young
boy, I always turned Tom toward the wall so he couldn't see me go to the
toilet. Either that or throw my cap over his head. Once, as an older teen,
I'd set Tom in front of me and jacked off for him and then shot all over
his face. I felt really weird about doing it and never did it again. Using
ample amounts of Tom's two-ply paper, I cleaned myself up and pulled my
shirt back down over my chest. I scrubbed the brush handle thoroughly with
soap and hot water and headed back to my room.

	I slipped back into bed, pulled the covers up to my neck, and fell
back to sleep, lulled by Steve's steady breathing. As I was drifting off, I
could smell the faint, lingering mixture of soap, lotion, cum and ass on my
fingers and the intriguing male odor of my friend, Steve lying in my
bed. Having slept with a boy all my life, I realized how much I had missed
the smell of boy in my bed. Billy's odor was similar but unique from
Steve's. I slid over at one point and leaned in close to the crook of his
neck to pull in a long draught of the intoxicating boy aroma.

	Morning came early and Steve and I worked together on the
chores. Tom came out and did all the lightweight chores because of his sore
back and Steve and I picked up Billy's chores since he was over at Jaime's,
probably getting one last good fuck in before heading home for
breakfast. Not that I was bitter or anything. Actually, I knew that Billy
did more than his fair share when we were all gone to school leaving him
the only one home. So I didn't begrudge helping with his share that
morning. I did begrudge him a little about getting copious amounts of sex
when I wasn't getting any. The last chore was to plough the driveway. I
opened the big shed doors and climbed aboard the tractor with the blade
attachment. I unplugged the block heater, choked the carburetor, and fired
it up. The blue Ford tractor grumbled to life and I put it into gear. I
dragged the blade across the parking area in front of the house and was
about to head down the lane when Steve flagged me down.

	"Do you think I could give that a try?" he asked eagerly.

	"If you want. Sure." I put it into neutral and set the brake. I
climbed down and he clambered up onto the seat. He put both hands on the
large wheel and looked at me expectantly. "You ever driven a tractor
before?" I asked.

       "No."

       "Okay. It's a lot like a car except you have some other levers that
control the blade attachment."

       "I've never driven a car before, either."

       "What? Never? Do you even have your license?"

       "No."

       "Shit. Scoot forward and let me sit behind you then." I slid in
behind him and reached around. I showed him how to release the brake and
put it in gear. We dropped the blade and he stepped on the gas pedal. We
lurched forward and he panicked briefly. I assured him it was okay and told
him to ease the gas on and off. He soon got the hang of it and we made four
passes up and down the drive out to the highway. When we got back to the
shed, he climbed off and I backed it in and shut it off. After I plugged
the block heater back in and started pulling the door shut, he joined me
and helped pull the heavy door. He was beaming like a kid in a candy store
who'd just spent his full allowance. "Enjoy that?" I asked.

       "It was great. Thanks. I've always wanted to try driving."

       "Come back next summer and we'll take the truck out on the land and
let you learn to drive. That's where I learned, out where there's nothing
to run into."

       "That would be sweet. Speaking of sweet, I think I smell breakfast."
I laughed at his eager tone.

       Mom had a great breakfast of scrambled eggs with bits of onion,
cheese and peppers, fried ham and wheat toast. The toast was made from her
home baked bread covered with her strawberry preserves. She was an amazing
cook and learned well from Grandma, who had also been a wonderful cook. We
gobbled ours down and headed upstairs and took quick showers. When I got
downstairs after my shower, Steve was in the great room practicing on the
guitar. I could tell he was pulled between wanting to keep practicing and
needing to go with me into town. Reluctantly, he put the guitar back in the
corner of the room beside the leather couch. As we drove back toward town,
Steve was still in awe at the beauty of the surrounding woods in our
foothills, all blanketed in soft, white powder. He had more than moonlight
to view them with this trip since the sun was out causing the icicles in
the trees to sparkle like jewels. In town, I sent him off in one direction
toward a book store while I headed to the only decent music store in town.

	We met back at the truck and went to Walmart where I finished up my
shopping for the family. Steve needed something from the pharmacy which
gave me a chance to slip away and purchase a carefully selected tree
ornament. I was worried I wouldn't be able to find one that I really wanted
and would need to find a way to get to a Hallmark store. I was fortunate,
however, and found two possibilities. I selected the better of the two and
hurried over to purchase it before Steve could see it. When he came from
the pharmacy, he had already purchased his items over there so we were
about to leave when a sign caught his eye. There was a sign by a Christmas
tree at the entry and exit area that read, "The Giving Tree. Gifts for the
Children of Intermountain Children Services." Steve took my arm and pulled
me over to it. He chose a tag hanging from the tree and read, "Michael, age
8. Flannel shirt, toy cars."

	"Pick one and let's go back in and get them something for
Christmas." I chose a six year old girl who wanted a tea set and a Disney
character shirt. We went back in the store and had a grand time selecting
the perfect items for our kids. Steve bounced from rack to rack holding up
one shirt after another until he narrowed it down to two and made me select
one of them. I got the little girl a pink tea set and an Ariel
blouse. Steve then bought an assortment of small cars and tossed in a play
mat with streets to drive on. The joy in Steve's eyes as he handed the name
tag to the clerk and watched it being stapled to the bag was
heartwarming. This young man who scarcely spent any money on himself was
thrilled to be able to share anonymously with a child in need. I felt such
appreciation for him and his kind heart.

	Along the way home, he wondered aloud what Michael might look
like. He wondered if he was blond or dark haired. He hoped he would like
the color of the shirt. I was amused. He thought maybe he should have
gotten something for another one of the tags. He worried that there were
still so many tags not taken care of.

	When we got home, Karl and Cynthia had already arrived and the mood
was festive. Mom had made a pot of broccoli cheese soup and we had some of
her homemade bread to go with it. Karl talked about his new job with the
accounting firm and Cynthia shared her experiences with past Christmases in
Bozeman where she grew up. The two of them held hands at the table and
smiled incessantly at each other. It was both cute and annoying
simultaneously. I was genuinely happy for Karl that he was so madly in love
and it was clear that he was definitely, hopelessly, madly in love. He
gushed all over Cynthia. She was a nice catch for him and, in my opinion,
he was dating over his head. Cynthia was a complete package with good
looks, long, thick, blond hair, a shapely figure and a charming personality
to boot.

	I couldn't resist prodding Billy about how his time over at Jaime's
house was. "What did you guys do?" I asked between bites of my thick slice
of buttered bread dripping in honey.

	"Just the usual stuff, you know." He shot me a subtle, dirty look.

	"No, I don't know. What do you mean by the usual stuff?" I wasn't
letting him off so easy. I slurped a spoonful of the creamy, cheesy soup.

	"Just the usual stuff. We just hung out together. You know?"

	"Hmm. Well that's pretty much what Steve and I did today too, we
just hung out together." I shoved the last chunk of bread in my mouth to
cover my smirk.

	"Well, I'm pretty sure Jaime and I had more fun hanging out than
you two did." He smirked back at me and shoved a spoonful of soup in his
mouth with a large chunk of broccoli on it.

	"What makes you think that?" I pressed, enjoying the spot I was
putting him on.

	"We just did, that's all." Then under his breath, he added, "At
least, I hope we did."

	I mentioned that Steve and I were headed out to go ride the
toboggan and that he'd never done it before. Soon, everyone thought that
was a grand idea and wanted to join in. Mom made some hot chocolate to put
into a Thermos jug and bagged up some of her famous chocolate chip and
banana cookies. We loaded the toboggan and sleds and plastic saucers and
off we went. Steve, Karl, Cynthia and I all took the first ride on the
toboggan. We careened down the hillside picking up speed as we went and
Steve and Cynthia both cried out in excited shrieks of delight. At the
bottom, as we finally slowed and jumped off, Steve grabbed the rope and
started charging up the mountain to do it again. We all took turns going on
the toboggan and trading off on the other snow play items we'd brought, but
Steve loved the toboggan most. I talked him into riding with me and going
over a jump someone had made in the middle of the hill. We hit it and
sailed through the air, landing with a solid thud then we bounced off the
toboggan and began rolling down the hillside together. The toboggan took
off without us and went all the way down to the bottom. We tumbled
together, limbs flailing about, until we finally slid to a stop with Steve
on top of me and his face inches from mine. I saw something in his eyes and
thought for a minute he was going to kiss me. Suddenly, he pushed himself
up and stood up quickly. We were both red faced and flustered and covered
in snow from head to toe. We started laughing and the rest of the family
teased and jeered us over it once it was clear we were both okay.

	"If that had been Karl and Cynthia, I would think they planned
that," Billy exclaimed. "I thought you were gonna kiss."

	Steve laughed and said, "No kidding. Those two are like a couple of
lovebirds. That was a wild ride. Let's do it again!"

	I felt stupid for thinking he might kiss me. I knew I'd imagined it
because deep down, I wanted it to be true. I knew it was happening to me
just like it had happened in so many other friendships I'd had. I was
falling for him and sooner or later, I'd do something stupid to ruin the
friendship. More than once, I'd misjudged innocent events and acted on my
stupidity only to destroy another friendship. Other times, I'd just evaded
friendships to avoid the eventual pain. I had to walk away and recover. I
pretended to need to go pee and trotted off around the edge of the slope
and into a stand of trees. I leaned against a tree and stared up into the
sky. I stared up into the deep blue, winter sky and said, "Please, dear
God, don't let me screw this friendship up." I got control of my emotions
and returned to join the group, my insulated boots made large impressions
in the unblemished snow as I walked.

	We played together until four in the afternoon and then all piled
back into the trucks and drove back to our ranch, wet, chilled and
tired. We hung our snow clothes out in the entry room in back of the house
to dry. Dad had installed a row of wooden hooks all along one wall for that
purpose. There was a shower and sink for washing up before entering the
main house. With four boys on a farm, it was an essential room for the sake
of my mom's sanity.

	I hurried upstairs while Steve took the chance to practice on the
guitar some more. I wrapped my presents for Steve and got everything ready
for the evening's party. Karl and Cynthia found a semi-private corner to
cuddle and smooch in. Tom got on his laptop and Billy was busy texting his
friends. Mom headed right to the kitchen and Dad went outside to do some
errand. I assumed he was on a project for one of the local farmers. It was
just like him to work on Christmas Eve if someone was in a hurry for some
repair. When I finished with my presents, I went downstairs and into the
kitchen. Dad had returned from his errand and was inside helping carve the
turkey. "Mom, Dad, I have a question for you."

	They both stopped what they were doing and gave me their
attention. "You know how Steve has taken to the guitar so well? I was
thinking that since I don't really use it and rather than let it just sit
here and gather dust, I should give it to him for Christmas. He doesn't
have much and no family support as far as I know and couldn't possibly
afford one on his own. What do you think?"

	My mom wiped her hands on her red Santa apron and said, "That's
very thoughtful of you and very generous. I'm sure he would appreciate it
but I hate to see you give up on it. I never thought you really gave it a
good chance. Don't you think you'd like to still learn to play it?"

	"I know you really wanted me to be your musician, but it's just not
my thing."

	"What is your thing?" Dad asked me bluntly. "You don't seem to have
a passion for anything. You have very few friends. You've hardly dated,
didn't play any sport for more than a season or two, started and quit the
piano and guitar as well as the harmonica - the harmonica for hell's
sake. How hard is the harmonica? And what about college? Have you even
selected a major yet?"

	"I'm a new freshman. Give me a chance, will ya?" I was perturbed by
the insinuation and a little louder than I intended. I didn't want
Christmas Eve to be ruined with a lecture and probable argument with my dad
so I chose to walk away. Trouble was, Dad was already into his tough love,
parent mode and followed me.

	"Don't get an attitude, I'm just suggesting that you can't afford
to start and stop and be uncommitted to things in college the way you've
been for most of your life up 'til now. It's expensive and a waste of time
going off in the wrong direction, not to mention the wasted money." I
glared at my dad. I couldn't believe what he was saying. I'd never given
them any trouble. I got good grades even if they weren't like Tom's. No one
could compete with him. But Dad wasn't done. Even after I tried to escape
to the great room where the others were sitting thinking that he would stop
the lecture with others around, he continued to chip at me, "I'm just
suggesting you could use a little more commitment like your brothers here
have shown. You never kept a friend over six months, let alone a
girlfriend. Have you even dated anyone down there at State? And what are
your grades like?"

	"Dad! Are you serious? I'm barely a freshman. Just because I'm not
the brainy nerd that Tom is, I get decent grades. Maybe I'm not the little
athletic stud that Billy is, who's good at everything whether he puts any
effort into it or not and probably gets laid at will by all the
cheerleaders, but I'm not a quitter. Tom didn't date much in high school
and neither Tom nor Karl played a bunch of sports. Why are you ragging on
me?"

	"Hey, watch who you're calling a nerd," Tom threatened. "I can
still take you down and inflict some pain if I have to." It was meant as a
joke to lighten up the situation, but I didn't find it funny. He had, on
multiple occasions, done that very thing as we grew up. He used to chase me
down and sit on me and dangle spit over my face then slurp it back up just
before it dribbled on me. I'd throw a fit over it and that really amused
him. Every now and then he'd lose control of it and his slimy slobber would
splatter onto my face. Then I'd go really nuts and chase him around,
screaming like a wild Comanche, when he'd let me up. Mom would come out and
usually punish us both and sometimes only punish me after he'd deny any
wrongdoing. Other times I'd get the 'knuckle noogie' from him where he'd
sit on me and rub his knuckles into my scalp saying "noogie, noogie,
noogie." He used me like a servant sometimes and if I refused to go get him
whatever he wanted, like cookies and milk or a blanket or whatever, he'd
rub his knuckles on his palm and say, "Want a noogie?" I'd jump up and get
whatever he wanted.

	"I'm not ragging on you. I'm giving you some counsel and you need
to learn to take counsel a little better. Karl didn't play sports because
he was involved in student government and Tom was focused on his
grades. They didn't date a lot, I agree, but they dated a lot more than you
did. They were both into scouting and earned their Eagle rank by age
fourteen. That's a real accomplishment. Karl was part of the school
leadership and senior class president. I'd say that shows some
commitment. You quit scouts right after cubs. As for your grades, B's and
C's are not exactly what I'd call decent grades. I just feel like you have
more in you and that you just don't perform to your potential. I'm just
trying to help you see that." All I saw was everyone staring at me and in
particular Steve. I was embarrassed and suddenly furious.

	"You think you know so much. You don't!" I pushed away from the
door jamb and stepped back. Fighting tears, I let him have it, "You want to
know why I haven't reached my potential? You want to know why I never did
all that stuff? I'll tell you why! It started in second grade and continued
on every year after that. 'Oh you're Karl and Tom's brother' my teachers
all said. How nice to have another Steele boy. One week into the school
year and they were busy telling me how much less social I was than Karl and
how stupid I was compared to Tom. I never measured up. Because I was a
small kid in grade school, I was pushed around on the playground and among
the last ones picked for games. So I found out it was better to just lower
expectations. Since I didn't get things right off like Tom, they stopped
trying to help me figure things out and understand the lessons. Then came
sports. I'd play a sport for a year and then the next year, Billy was old
enough to be on my team. Guess what? My little brother could outplay me and
I'd end up on the bench while he started. I'd switch sports and sure
enough, Billy wanted to play that sport too. And guess what? Yup! I'd be on
the bench while he played the whole game. I finally got sick of it. Dating
girls? That's a great one. Ever have a girl laugh at you when you ask them
out to a dance? Ever have kids suddenly stop talking and act embarrassed
when you walk up? Neither did Karl or Tom and definitely not Billy. Ever
think a girl was about to ask you to the girl's choice dance only to find
out she really just wanted you to set her up with your LITTLE brother? I
bet not. Well I'm sick of it. Fuck it all! Fuck you all!" I shoved my
father out of the doorway and ran outside grabbing my coat as I exited
through the mud room. I left behind a stunned family with mouths
agape. "Merry Fucking Christmas!" I bellowed as I slammed the door.

	I ran down the lane with tears streaming down my face. I assumed
they were freezing before they hit the ground as cold as it was. The frigid
air was stinging my lungs as I gasped for air. I decided to head to my
favorite spot up in the loft to let off some steam. It wouldn't be exactly
warm there but it wouldn't be as freezing cold as it was outside. I turned
and headed back up the lane and cut across the north pasture. It was
untouched since the last snowfall and mine were the only footprints as I
traversed it. I turned and looked behind me. In the moonlight, I could see
my solitary trail and felt very alone. No one really understood me, I
felt. No one ever got to know me for who I was. I was always somebody's
brother. I was the Steele brother who didn't measure up - the little black
sheep. I sighed heavily and went to the barn. I didn't need a light. I knew
every inch, every board and even every nail by heart. This was my domain. I
climbed to the loft and after swinging my legs up, I crawled toward the
bales in the back. Something stirred and I cried out in startled
fear. "Who's there?"

	"Don't freak. It's just me," Steve said. I felt a reassuring touch
to my arm. He switched on a flashlight and my heart started to settle down.

	"You scared the living shit out of me. What are you doing up here?"

	"Looking for you. I figured you'd come here sooner or later."

	"No offense to you, but I'm not really in the mood for company
right now."

	"I suppose not. But I don't care if you want me here or not. Sit
down." He patted the space on the bale next to him.

	"I'm sorry you had to hear all that. I'm sorry I dragged you up
here only to find out what a loser you have for a roommate." I bit my upper
lip and willed myself to not cry.

	"You're not a loser. You're the only one who thinks that."

	I sat down hard on the bale and rested my forearms on my knees and
slouched down. "I can't believe Dad is all disappointed in me. I knew I
didn't measure up to others, but I never dreamed I didn't measure up for
him. I mean, I guess deep down I knew it, but I didn't want to believe
it. I hate my life. I hate my family. I just want to go back to school and
become something like a doctor or a nurse and move to Kentucky or somewhere
far away from the whole damn lot of them where I can be my own self and not
somebody's brother. That would show them I'm not a loser."

	"That's a good goal. You'd make a great nurse or a doctor. Why
Kentucky?"

	I sniffed and stared at him. "I just said I hated my family and you
ask me why I said Kentucky? I don't want to go to Kentucky. I just made
that up because it's far away from here where no one knows me or my
brothers."

	"Oh well that's good, because they have tornadoes in Kentucky and
parts of it is really backwards. There are people there without any teeth
who brew moonshine in the woods."

	I chuckled in spite of myself. "How do you know that?"

	"I read about it. But I suppose that's not true of everyone in
Kentucky. It's funny how we make generalizations about people without all
the facts. Basic human nature, I guess. Now as for your father, he isn't
really disappointed in you. He's pretty disappointed in himself right now
though. He meant no harm. He loves you. He had no idea what you've been
going through or that you felt this way. You keep things bottled up way too
much. He loves you and he's concerned for your well being."

	"Yeah right. He has a pretty poor way of showing it. I don't care
anyway. Fuck them all. I don't need their approval or praise. I don't give
a damn if they think I suck. I could just disappear and no one would notice
or really care. If I died, I'm sure they'd all be relieved that at least it
was me and not one of the other boys. I wish I could just die."

	"I don't like liars - especially bad ones who lie to
themselves. None of that is true and you know it. What your father just
said hurt you really bad and what you've been dealing with by living in the
shadows of your brothers has been a horrible burden for many years. That's
clear to see and understand. It's okay to be sad over that but it's not
okay to make up overdramatic shit like no one cares and you want to
die. You definitely care and so does your family. And I'd care if you
died. I'd care a lot."

	I broke down and started to blubber. I folded myself into Steve's
thick parka and cried out the bitter tears of pain and sorrow I'd stored up
and locked away over the years. Sadness and feelings of inadequacy gushed
out of me like Avalanche Falls in Glacier Park. Steve just held me while I
let it flow like one of the firm, solid and majestic glaciers. I don't know
how long I shook and cried, I really don't have any idea. I know that when
I was done, he was still there, holding me, accepting me for who I was and
who I could be. No judgments. When I had gotten it all out, I pulled free
from his caressing arms and simply said, "Thank you." I wanted to kiss
him. Of course, I didn't do it, but I wanted to.

	"Thanks. I wish you were my brother. How come you understand me
when my real family doesn't? I know you say they care, but I honestly don't
think they really do. You're just saying that to make me feel better. Even
Mom thinks I'm worthless, I can tell from little things she says like about
learning the guitar. You don't know what it's been like for me growing up
here in this family."

	Steve released his hold on my shoulder and stood up. He paced in
the dark and then said, "You're right. I don't know what it's been like for
you in a family. I never had a family. My mother left me on the doorstep of
a fire station in Missoula. The firemen found me in a box with a note
attached that asked them to take care of me. It was simply signed, Mary. No
last name. Steve, the fireman who found me, gave me the last name of
Fahrenheit and his own first name. He never had any sons of his own and
always wanted a boy to give his name to. I suppose he thought the
Fahrenheit thing was clever. I grew up in a boy's home in Missoula that was
mostly full of troubled kids or kids taken out of their abusive
families. Steve, the fireman, visited me every few months for a while and
checked up on me. When I was about eight, he stopped coming. I guess he
moved away or something. I don't really know and no one ever told me. I was
shuffled off to a few foster families and was almost adopted a couple of
times, but then it didn't happen after all for unknown reasons, so I went
back to the boy's home. I guess I couldn't deal with the rejection because
after the last adoption attempt, whenever I would be considered for
placement, I'd throw fits and refuse to speak, pretending I was mute. I
slept on the floor when there were too many boys and too few beds until I
was big enough to kick a smaller boy out of his bed and take it
over. Trouble was, I never really had the heart to do that so I'd either
share it with him or just take the floor. When I turned thirteen, I moved
into the teen room. It was hell on earth for the first couple of years
until I got old enough to defend myself. Most of the boys there had been
abused and in trouble with the law and were cleverly educated in the school
of hard knocks. It was survival of the fittest. They battled over who would
be king and the ones who were king took whatever they wanted from us weaker
ones - anything they wanted. I don't blame them, that's the only way they
knew. It's the natural order of things."

	He paused to compose himself, then he continued, "There was one
king who was an especially good king. His name was Daniel. Daniel liked me
and watched out for me. I'd do special favors for him but not because he
made me. Because I wanted to give him back something for his kindness and
that was all I had to offer. When Daniel turned eighteen and had to leave,
he gave me his iPod full of music. Music became my escape. I hid the iPod
in my mattress so it wouldn't get stolen and at night I would pull it out
and listen to the music. I gained an appreciation for all kinds of music
and I would be transported away to distant lands full of peace and
beauty. I read everything I could get my hands on. I did well enough in
school that I was allowed to attend a local magnet school. Of course, I
couldn't really make any friends because I had to go back to the boy's home
right after school. I just kept to myself and read books on my lunch
hours. For recess, I would just run around the school yard by
myself. Running set me free the same way reading and music did. And when I
got older, I'd sneak off and hide in the garden shed to masturbate in
private. There was no privacy in the rooms. The showers and sinks were on
opposite sides in a tiled section at the end of the bunk area. Two toilets
were on the very back wall open for all to see you do your
business. Jacking off in the privacy of the shed was another brief escape
from my sad reality that I enjoyed. I was lucky to get a scholarship for
underprivileged boys so that's how I can attend State. I've been
blessed. But I'd give anything for a real family like yours. I'd love to
live in the shadows of brothers like yours and get knuckle noogies. You've
been so focused on yourself and your own feelings of self loathing, that
you're blind to the love you've been shown. I saw it a hundred times with
the abused boys who came and went through the home. They couldn't let
themselves be loved because they couldn't love themselves. So you're
right. I don't know what it's like growing up in a family like yours. I
wish I did. It's a shame you don't appreciate it. It's a shame you look
past the love you've been shown because you've focused so much on the
injustices you experienced. And don't you ever, EVER doubt your sweet
mother's love for you. I wish I could locate my mom but there's no record
of her except that her name is Mary."

	"Mary, just like Jesus' mother," I mused quietly.

	Steve scoffed briefly and said, "Yeah, but one big difference, I'm
certain my mother was no virgin."

	"You want to tell her off good, I bet."

	There was silence and in the dark I couldn't read his face. "No,"
he finally responded, "I would like to find her and thank her."

	"Thank her? For what? She abandoned you."

	"You don't know her story and neither do I. But she didn't have me
sucked into a sink at the community abortion clinic. She carried me to term
and gave me life. Who knows what she endured to accomplish that. She left
me where she knew I'd be taken care of. I'm sure she loved me enough to do
that."

	"Oh Steve, I'm sorry. I ... I didn't have any idea. Why didn't you
tell me any of this before?"

	"I don't want people's pity. If I'd told you about my life, when
you invited me up here, I would have thought it was just to be nice to the
poor orphan boy. I came because you didn't know and because I could tell
you really wanted me to come. So don't go blabbing any of this around. What
I told you stays between us."

	"Okay. I won't tell. I'm good at keeping secrets. I've had lots of
practice with Billy, remember?" Steve sat down and pulled something from
inside his jacket.

	He handed me a wrapped gift. "Here," he said, "I want you to open
this gift early."

	I took it and felt that it was clearly a book. I pulled the
wrapping off using the light of the flashlight that he turned back on. I
read the cover, "The Poetry of Robert Frost; A Collection of Poems." I
looked at him and asked, "You trying to put some culture in my life?"

	"You could certainly use some," he joked, "but I really just wanted
to share my favorite poet with you."

	"Is he good?"

	Steve chuckled. "Yeah. He's good. He wrote The Road Less Traveled."

	"Is that a good one?"

	"You've never heard it?"

	"No."

	He opened the book and read the last stanza:

		I shall be telling this with a sigh
		Somewhere ages and ages hence:
		Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
		I took the one less traveled by,
		And that has made all the difference.

	"Don't blame your brothers because they were talented in different
ways from you. It's a shame misguided adults tried to make you conform to
their standards instead of helping you find your own strengths. You have so
many wonderful traits and talents and I've been in awe of you since you
became my roommate. You have tremendous capacity for compassion. You've got
a quick wit and an easy way with people. Your Dad's very wrong about your
commitment to things. I've seen you work really hard on your studies and
not give up until you understand things. You have a bright future - a
future that will be your own and no one else's. You have to take the road
less traveled by. Stop resenting that your brothers have different gifts
than you have and appreciate your own gifts. You have ones they don't have
and never will."

	"I love that poem, The Road Not Taken, but this is my
favorite. It's titled The Woods are Lovely, Dark and Deep. He turned to a
page with a tab he'd placed in it before wrapping the book and read:

		Whose woods these are I think I know.
		His house is in the village though;
		He will not see me stopping here
		To watch his woods fill up with snow.

		My little horse must think it queer
		To stop without a farmhouse near
		Between the woods and frozen lake
		The darkest evening of the year.

		He gives his harness bells a shake
		To ask if there is some mistake.
		The only other sound's the sweep
		Of easy wind and downy flake.

		The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
		But I have promises to keep,
		And miles to go before I sleep,
		And miles to go before I sleep.

	"I get it," I said. "The owner of the woods is God, right?"

	"I think so, yes. And stopping on the darkest evening is like how
we find ourselves in dark at times and just wish we could wander off into
God's woods."

	"But we can't because we have miles to go yet to live our lives
before we die or sleep?"

	"Yeah, that's what I get from it. The horse knows we have to move
on and he tells us so. The secret is to look for and enjoy the beauty of
the ride." Steve clapped the book shut and pulled me into a hug.

	"Thanks," I said softly.

	He convinced me to go back to the house and talk with my father. I
didn't want to. I still wanted to pack up my things and get a motel in
Kalispell until I could get a bus back to school and avoid the situation
altogether. I was afraid that Steve was wrong and that when I stepped back
into the house the attack would start all over again and be worse. That was
the easy road - the coward's way out. But I had promises to keep and miles
to go before I sleep. Reluctantly, I followed him full of trepidation back
to the house and went in. Everyone was sitting in the great room. A fire
was crackling but there was no caroling. The lights on the tree weren't
even lit. All the expressions were glum and the mood was heavy. Regrets
hung like massive cobwebs in every corner of the room. I stood mute in the
doorway with Steve behind me. My father rose from his chair and came to
me. I looked at the floor. He took me by the arm and pulled me into an
embrace. "I am a foolish, foolish old man. I am so sorry that I did not see
the pain you were living with. I apologize, son. I love you. We all love
you. Can you forgive me?" I was shaking and merely nodded my willingness. I
had no sufficient words. Mom joined the embrace and one by one, everyone
came together and we embraced together. Steve was the first to step away
and he plugged in the tree lights.

	"Hey," he said, "how about a song?" He took the guitar and began a
rudimentary version of Silent Night. It was simply played, but I'd never
heard a more beautiful rendition. At the end, we all joined in singing,

		Silent night, holy night
		Son of God, love's pure light
		Radiant beams from Thy holy face
		With the dawn of redeeming grace
		Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth
		Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth

	We sat in silence afterwards and stared at the lights on the
Christmas tree. I stared at the ornament of the Christ child and I gave him
a gift. I gave away my anger and resentment. I forgave my family and I
forgave myself. I felt suddenly free and full of joy - pure joy. "Dinner is
ready," Mom said. "Let's eat."

	At dinner, I showed everyone the nice book that Steve had given
me. Then I got up and retrieved the guitar. I handed it to him and said, "I
want to give you an early gift as well. I want you to have this guitar. I
love the beautiful music you make with it and it needs to be played. That's
what it was made for and it needs to be used for its intended purpose."
Steve swallowed the mouthful of mashed potatoes and looked at me in
disbelief. He took it in his hands and caressed it. I then handed him
another gift and he opened it quickly while I held the guitar. He held it
up for all to see. "It's a series of training DVD's," I explained. "You can
download the audio onto your iPod from my computer or you can watch them on
my laptop."

	"That's too much. I can't ..."

	"Yes, you can. You've given me much more than that tonight. I'm not
talking about the book, even though that's an awesome gift. You've given me
back some self respect and a renewed appreciation for my family. I'm sorry
everyone for being such an ass. I love you all very much. I really do." Tom
started clapping and everyone joined in. I became a little embarrassed and
returned to my seat and asked Billy to pass the stuffing. Steve intercepted
it and scooped up a large heaping on his plate before passing it on to
me. He grinned as he passed it down and then he dove back into his plate
full of Mom's wonderful, Christmas Eve meal.

	After dinner, we assembled in the great room. Mom played the piano
and Steve played two more songs he'd learned on the guitar including a much
improved version of Jingle Bells and the Happy Birthday song. He reasoned
it was Jesus' birthday after all. Then we each took turns hanging our
ornaments and sharing something we were thankful for. I hung my ornament
and turned to Steve, "I'm thankful for a great new friend."

	Then, I handed him the ornament I'd purchased from Walmart. It was
a clear disk with BFF etched on it. Below the BFF was etched: Easy to Find,
Hard to Lose, Impossible to Forget. He took it, thanked me and hung it
right next to mine. "I'm thankful for all of you letting me part of a
family for Christmas."

	After everyone except Cynthia hung their ornaments, I felt a bit
sorry that I didn't mention to Karl I was getting one for Steve so that he
could have purchased one for her. But then Karl took Cynthia by the hand
and led her to the tree. "Your ornament is already hanging on the
tree. It's red and shaped like a cube. See if you can find it." There, next
to the ornament of the Christ child was a red velvet box. One hand flew to
her mouth as she took the box from the branch with her other one. Karl took
the box from her, knelt down and opened it to show her the diamond. "Will
you marry me?" he asked.

	"YES! OH YES, YES, YES!" She exclaimed. Now everyone really clapped
and cheered.

	Karl took the ring from the box and slipped it onto her finger. She
was trembling with excitement and joy. He stood and they embraced and
kissed passionately. Then she showed off her beautiful, sparkling square
diamond with small stones surrounding it set into a white gold ring. We all
joined hands and bowed our heads as Dad spoke a blessing on our family and
particularly upon Karl and Cynthia's engagement. Then he thanked God for
each of his sons but mentioned me last of all with a special blessing that
I may find joy and success in whatever I chose to pursue in life. He
thanked God for our new friend, Steve, and closed the prayer with a solemn
amen, which we all repeated. We stood there in silence holding hands for a
bit then slowly separated.

	"Shane," Dad addressed me as I was walking toward the door. I
braced myself and prepared to stay calm no matter what he might say, "I
know you didn't appreciate being moved from your bed and you're right, we
shouldn't make our guest, Steve, sleep on the floor. I went out before
dinner and cleaned up the old bunk house. I put a space heater in there as
well as a lantern and made up the beds with some of your mom's old
quilts. I hope you'll be okay with sleeping out there tonight and we'll let
Cynthia have your room. That sound okay?"

	I just went and gave him a big hug and thanked him for his
thoughtfulness. Steve and I hurried up and gathered our things that we
would need in the morning, took care of our bathroom needs, and pulled on
our boots and coats after wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and a good
night. As we walked over to the bunk house out beside the barn, we made
tracks in the freshly fallen snow. Flakes of the lightly falling powder
settled on our heads and shoulders. When we reached the bunkhouse, I
stopped and turned around. "Look," I told Steve, "behind us. There are two
sets of tracks in the snow. I like that. I've spent too many years making
only one set of tracks in the woods, so dark and deep. Two tracks are
definitely better than just one set. Thanks for being my friend. I've
really needed one for a long time."

       "You're right. Two tracks are better," he agreed. I pushed open the
bunkhouse door and the lantern was lit and dimly glowing. It cast a
mysterious light on the old, but rugged furniture. The room was full of the
heavy musty scent that settles in an unused room over time. It wasn't
overpowering or repugnant, however, and it reminded me a tiny bit of the
strong male scent that Steve gave off at night. I set my things on one of
the beds and twisted the brass lever on the lantern to increase the
light. I knelt and ignited the space heater. Soon, it was glowing brightly
and I moved it directly between the two beds then I dimmed the lantern once
more. Steve put his things on the other bed that Dad had made up for us and
asked me to sit next to him, patting the thick, blue quilt. I did.

	"I have one more gift for you. I want you to open it tonight,"
Steve said.

	"What? You didn't need to give me anything else. I love the
book. That's plenty."

	"Well, this isn't much. Really. I actually have one other gift, but
it can wait until morning."

	"Dude, that's too much. I appreciate it and all but I'm sure you
don't have a lot of money to be spending on me."

	"I didn't spend a lot, but I wanted to get you something meaningful
like the book of poems." He paused and seemed to be considering
something. Finally, he reached over and picked up a small gift bag with red
and green tissue stuffed in the top of it. I reached for it, but he
withheld it. "I'm not sure about this. If you don't like it or don't want
it, please don't get mad over it."

	"Don't be silly. I wouldn't do that. I'm sure I'll like whatever it
is, coming from you."

	"I hope so. I mean I think you'll like it, but I could be wrong and
if I am, promise me you won't be mad."

	"Of course not. Now I'm super curious. What is it?" He smiled
nervously and handed me the bag.

	I pulled the tissue from the top and tossed it quickly onto the
floor. I reached in and withdrew a small tube of Chapstick lip
balm. "Chapstick?" I asked curiously.

	"Cherry flavored. My personal favorite," he commented with excited
anticipation in his voice. I wondered if he wasn't more excited to give me
the gift than I was to receive it. There was such innocent, anxious
anticipation in his expression and voice.

	Next, I removed a small bottle of clear liquid. "Hand sanitizer?
Thanks. I could use that back at the dorm. I set it aside on the bed and
pulled out the final item. It was a small rectangular box. In the dim light
I could only barely make out the label. When I realized what I was holding,
my heart leapt, nearly out of my chest. I grabbed the bottle of hand
sanitizer and twisted it to read the label properly, it was a bottle of
personal lubricant. I tore open the box and pulled one of the foil pouches
from it. I was speechless for a moment.

	"Well? Do you like it?" Steve asked nervously. Then he bit his
lower lip.

	"NO! How could you even ask that?" His demeanor drooped until I
continued, "I love it! I totally love it!" I dropped the condom and lube
and grabbed the lip balm. I pulled the top off and spread it generously
across my lips. Then I spread some across Steve's lips. I reached up to
take his face in my cold hands and pulled his lips to mine and kissed
him. He kissed back. We kissed and smooched and kissed some
more. Eventually we started to grope as we kissed. I stood him up in front
of the space heater and pulled his coat off and he removed mine for me. We
frantically unlaced and tugged our snow boots off. It became nearly a race
at that point as we stood back up and pulled our shirts and pants off,
leaving them in a jumbled heap at our feet. Being naked except for our
woolen socks and boxers, we embraced and kissed again with hands roaming
over each other's backs, heads, faces and butt cheeks. I nearly passed out
as my erect penis pressed into his groin beside his own firm erection.

	"Skip the PJ's tonight," Steve whispered into my ear. "It's my turn
to warm you up."

	"Let's get to it then," I insisted. We were both shivering. In
spite of the space heater, it was still quite cold in the old
bunkhouse. Steve picked up his pile of things off the bed and moved them
over to what was meant to be my bed. I picked up the condom and lube and
then pulled the covers down and slid into the cool sheets. I slipped the
lube and condom under the pillow. Steve returned and pulled his boxers off
before sliding in beside me. He kissed me once more and then pulled my
boxers down, freeing little Shaney. Steve pulled the covers back over us
and rolled me to my side. He wedged his warm, throbbing cock into the crack
of my ass and began vigorously rubbing my arms, chest and legs. I thought I
might just pass out from the overwhelming feeling of this wonderful, kind,
beautiful young man lying naked against me.

	After a long spell of rubbing, I rolled over and kissed him and
thanked him for being so brave and for all he'd done for me. We began
kissing passionately, exploring each other's mouths with our tongues and
groping every reachable piece of naked flesh on each other's bodies. Our
dicks pressed and rubbed against each other in our passionate, prone dance
of lust and love. He whispered into my ear, "Top or bottom, Shane. Your
choice."

	I didn't need to even think about it for a millisecond. "Bottom," I
whispered back, "I want to feel a real man deep within me. Two, as though
one." I pulled the condom from under the pillow and Steve rolled it
anxiously down his shaft after pulling the ample foreskin down over his
ridged, magenta corona. Before he put the condom on, I stopped him and
licked slowly along the base of his engorged phallus all the way up to his
sensitive frenulum. He shuddered and moaned. Once protected, I bathed his
sheathed animal with gobs of lubricant and then he prepped me slowly and
gently for my virgin experience. At last, the moment I'd fantasized over my
whole adolescent life arrived and Steve, my best and only real friend, laid
me on my back, slipped between my legs, lifted my knees and pressed his
marvelous penis into my body. I hadn't even noticed the cold until he
pulled the large, heavy quilt up over us both enclosing us in a makeshift
tent. Carefully, he entered into me and ever so gradually he pressed on
until I was completely filled with his manhood. He lowered his chest down
onto mine and we kissed tenderly while I relished the feeling of being
sexually conjoined with him. Then he rose on his elbows and stared
longingly on my face as he began the patient, steady rhythm of pulling out
and pressing in, projecting indescribably erotic sensations throughout my
quivering frame.

	After our initially slow, sexual stroll along my virgin path
together into the woods - lovely, dark and deep, while I had been caressing
his firm chest and gently tweaking his protruding nipples, he closed his
eyes and quickened his pace. I gave chase and began to buck my hips to meet
his quickening thrusts as wave after wave of euphoric, orgasmic energy
suddenly coursed through my young soul. I cried out as he groaned out a
guttural, animalistic growl from deep within himself and shoved his
burgeoning cock deep within my human wishing well and then matched my cries
of ecstasy. "Oh Yeah!" I cried, "Cum Shaney, cum!" Then it was over and my
Christmas Steve collapsed onto my cum covered chest and lay his head next
to mine, cheek to cheek, in the pitch blackness of our makeshift tent as we
panted and reveled in the afterglow. I drew in the scent of his sexual musk
and my spilled cum and whispered softly in his ear, "This is the best
Christmas gift ever." I'm so glad you came for Christmas, Steve."

				*******##*******

This concludes my story. I hope you have enjoyed it. I would appreciate
hearing from my readers. If you are willing to do so, please drop me an
email and share your thoughts on the story.

       h.schreiber@hushmail.com

Special thanks to my two editors, Flip McHooter and Paul S. Stevens, both
talented Nifty authors in their own right.

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