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, Im 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. Im glad youre 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