Date: Tue, 13 Apr 2010 11:19:53 -0400
From: Natty <bacteriaburger@gmail.com>
Subject: Deep Valley

Deep Valley
By Natty Soltesz

"Fuck your girlfriend," Patrick said to Rob, and they sunk into a tense
silence that lasted the whole way up the slope.  The ski resort was closing
and they were the last ones who'd been allowed to get in line for the lift.
Those behind them got turned away -- parents and children, groups of
teenagers who loudly voiced their disappointment.

Patrick had looked back at them, cheerful people in colorful winter gear
streaming back toward the bright lodge, then shuffled forward in line a few
steps behind Rob, his best friend.  Most of their day had been enjoyable.
Rob had even been flirtatious toward Patrick, racing him down the trails,
even slapping his ass once when Patrick bent forward to adjust his boot.

The conflict had begun in the bathroom of the lodge just before they headed
out for their last run.  They'd stood beside each other at the urinals,
unzipping and unbuttoning through layers of clothing before unleashing
their cocks and letting loose with a hot stream.

They were alone.  Rob looked askance at Patrick's cock.

"Well hello there, Little Mr. Baker," Rob said.  Baker was Patrick's last
name.

"He says hi back," Patrick said, taking a long look at Rob's cock, a look
he wouldn't have dared had it not been invited.

"Better not look too long at mine or yours'll start to salute," Rob said
with a cocky smile, shaking off the last drops of piss and tucking his cock
back in his pants.

"That's what you'd like to think," Patrick said, finishing up.  They washed
their hands beside each other.  "Anyway, you pop a boner as soon as you get
your hands around mine."

Patrick had barely gotten the words out before the door swung open and a
guy, who was around their age, walked in.  Rob gave him a cold look and
Patrick felt his stomach sink.

They left the lodge and re-attached their skis.  Rob was sullen.
Approaching the lift, Patrick felt all his anger and frustration well up.

"Is it a fucking crime that I even acknowledge it?" he said to Rob in a
fierce but quiet voice.  Rob, teeth clenched, looked off at the slope,
looked like he would have been happy if an avalanche would bury them both
and put an end to this particular conversation.  "It's not like we only do
it when we're drunk anymore.  It's all the time, and I'm sick of pretending
like it isn't."

"It's not me that's trying to make it into something so fucking serious.
Stop making such a goddamn big dramatic deal out of it," Rob said, moving
quickly so that Patrick had to keep up in order to hear him.

"You're the one who makes a big deal out of it," Patrick said.  "You make
it into this huge thing, to where I'm not even allowed to mention it
without you looking like you want to punch me in the face."

Rob's fists were indeed clenched at his side.

"Well unlike you I have a girlfriend," he said, over-enunciating the word
like it was made of precious metal, and that's when Patrick said what he'd
said.

***

So the lift swung under their butts and whisked them away, the lights and
sounds receding until nothing was left but the dark trees and howl of the
wind.  They sat one seat apart.  Earlier they'd sat together, letting their
thighs touch.

They got off the lift.  For a moment they stood beside one another.  It was
quiet, they were alone, the rest of the skiers had already descended.  Then
Rob pushed off and Patrick followed.  He was heading down the trail toward
a black diamond, a slope Patrick had skied before but one that never failed
to give him the willies.  Rob didn't hesitate, didn't wait to give Patrick
a grin or a word of encouragement or derision, he just pushed off and left.

Patrick took a deep breath.  The drop was almost vertical.  He moved toward
the edge, and then there was no stopping.  He was heading down, rushing
faster and faster, trying not to think as he dug his skies in from side to
side.  The slope rushed past as he maintained control, even letting himself
straighten out a little, gaining in speed until he felt it, a wiggle, a
little loss of confidence, and his ski wobbled more and he knew that he was
going to lose it.

He fell, head over heels, careening down the slope as snow roughly crunched
against his face and down his collar and the waist of his pants.  When it
was over and he looked around he saw he was at the bottom.  Neither of his
skies were attached to his feet.  He laid there for a minute, eyes on the
empty sky.

"You alright?" Rob called, rushing toward him.  There was real fear in his
voice.

"Yeah," Patrick replied, starting to get up.  But there was a sharp pain in
his thigh -- and he immediately went back down.

Rob grabbed his arm and helped him up.

"Your foot?" Rob asked.

"No, my thigh.  It's cramping up."

"C'mon," Rob said.  After taking off his skies he wrapped Patrick's arm
around his neck.  Together they hobbled toward a small cabin just at the
edge of the woods.  Probably it had once been a ski patrol station, but now
it was empty and unused.

Rob unlatched the door and they hopped inside.  It was empty but for a
wooden bench.  Rob helped Patrick sit down on it.  Patrick tried to stretch
out his leg but winced from the pain.  He tore the gloves off of his hands
and unzipped the leg of his snow pants, reaching in to massage it out.
"Fuck that fuckin hurts," he said.

Rob got on his knees.

"Lemme see," he said, and reached his hands around Patrick's
long-underwear-clad thigh.  He massaged the knot.  His hand were warm.
Patrick looked down at him, but Rob didn't notice.  He seemed lost in his
own world.  Patrick knew the look, and started getting hard.

Patrick's thigh muscle began to relax.  Rob's hands creeped higher and he
felt what was there.  Patrick stood up and Rob stood with him.  He reached
for Rob's coat and zipped it open.  Rob did the same, the two of them
uncasing stiff shells of winter gear until they got at the steaming hot
flesh underneath.  Finally with bare chests and rock-hard cocks they came
together, Rob hesitant at first, then kissing Patrick enthusiastically,
their mouths conjoined and comingled, tongues reaching for one another.

Rob's hands went right for Patrick's cock, and in a minute he was on his
knees, looking at it worshipfully.  It had always been like this, from the
first time they'd jacked off together.  Patrick had an exceptional cock,
thick and heavy, quite a contrast to Rob's.  Rob lost all his posturing
when it came to Patrick's dick, all the macho shit melting away, his
girlfriend likely the furthest thing from his mind.  He hefted the dick in
his palm, letting it graze across his hand, gazing at it.  Then he took it
in his mouth.

Yes, the mixed messages that Patrick often tried to process in his confused
mind fell away when Rob knelt before him, because then it was perfectly
clear: Rob loved sucking his cock.  Rob, his best friend since junior year
of high school, the guy who liked to shoot his guns and go four-wheeling in
the woods, simply collapsed at the sight of his dick, couldn't stuff enough
of it down his throat, would blow him passionately at the sight of it and
enjoy it to the last drop.

Patrick placed his hand on Rob's knit cap.  He took it off and tossed it
onto the wooden floor.  Rob's floppy black hair fell over his eyes,
undulating with the bobs of his head.  Patrick put his hand on the back of
Rob's head and subtly pushed him along.  In the silvery light that
reflected into the cabin's windows, he saw Rob's lips stretching to
accommodate the base of his shaft.  Rob had him to the hilt.  He grasped
Patrick's balls, his lips pressed against his pubes, letting Patrick's cock
rest in his throat.

Patrick backed him off and pulled Rob to his feet.  He felt for Rob's cock
-- which was small but perfect, diamond-hard and slick with precum.  He
knelt down before Rob and took his cock in his mouth, enjoying it for what
he could.  Blowing Rob never lasted long, even though Patrick felt like it
was where he was meant to be -- he liked Rob's little dick, he liked
pleasuring his hot friend more than he liked getting sucked by him, even;
but Rob would inevitably push him off after a minute or so.  Once Rob
admitted to Patrick that he thought his dick was pathetic and didn't
understand why anybody would want to suck it.  It didn't matter how much
Patrick said he liked it.  Rob didn't want to hear that shit, anyway.

Instead of letting Rob push him away Patrick motioned for Rob to join him
on the floor.  It was a little dusty, but fine, and they met up
head-to-crotch for a sixty nine.  Patrick had found that Rob could lose
himself like this, as long as he had Patrick's cock in his mouth.  The
position was awkward but Patrick made sure Rob had full rein over his cock,
holding his balls in one hand and chugging the thick dick past his gag
reflex.  Patrick had to adjust his neck to reach Rob's, which was leaky as
all hell, his nuts drawn up tight around the base.

It seemed easier for Patrick to be on top of Rob, so he rolled him over and
swung one leg over the side of Rob's head.  Rob groaned as his throat was
stuffed full of Patrick's meat and Patrick had an easier time taking Rob.
He knew they would cum like this, dicks in each other's mouths, and he knew
they could do it at the same time.  Rob was close.  Patrick took his cute
butt in his hands and boldly dug his fingers into Rob's crack.  Rob
couldn't have protested even if he'd wanted to, but to Patrick it seemed
that Rob spread his legs just as far as his bunched-up pants would allow.

Patrick found Rob's butthole, scorching and sweaty.  He pressed his
fingertip to it, feeling Rob suck him deep.  Without warning Rob let his
jizz fly, his asshole clenching as shot after shot of cream flooded
Patrick's throat.  Patrick let himself go then, too, hearing Rob's
satisfied gulps as he swallowed down his jizz.

They were done.  They dressed in silence, but it wasn't tense silence
anymore.  Sometimes the sex made things tenser -- made Rob turn away in
shame and run off to the bathroom or leave without another word.  And
sometimes it ended up like this -- the sex softening things, paving a
smooth exit, Rob offering a warm goodbye and the promise for a phone call
the next day.

They gathered their skis and then Patrick followed Rob, the two of them
shushing through the snow to the closest lift, but before they reached it
it was clear that it had stopped running.  Patrick felt a rising panic in
the quiet of the falling snow.  How were they going to get back to the
lodge?  How were they going to get home?  He looked to Rob and saw that he
didn't know either.


Website: http://nattysoltesz.com/stories

Write me: bacteriaburger@gmail.com