Date: Sun, 21 Apr 2024 04:59:45 -0400 From: A Friend Subject: A Bird in Winter Note: This is a short story about an unexpected sexual experience between a lonely straight man and an empathetic young gay neighbor, on a cold and dark Christmas eve. A Bird in Winter It was a blustery December evening and wind whistled through the branches of the linden tree in Dan's back yard. Dense clouds the color of steel wool were rolling in from the west. Dan took a swallow of beer and listened for birds, but the only sound he heard was a freight train blowing its whistle somewhere in the distance -- probably heading south like the birds, Dan thought. He put his beer down on the deck near the three empties and rubbed his hands together. Christmas fucking Eve. Dan hated holidays. On most holidays he and Ann used to go out to their favorite Mexican restaurant and then to see a movie or play, but that was a lifetime ago. Now he preferred to stay at the office and work, the later the better. You couldn't do that on Christmas Eve, though. Today, everyone had gone home after the office luncheon and the building manager had turned the heat off at five o'clock sharp, so Dan had little choice but to lock up and go home. He stopped at the Seven-Eleven and bought several six packs, deciding quite deliberately to get wasted that night. One of the six packs was almost finished. All the other houses on Dan's street were decorated with colorful Christmas lights, but you wouldn't know it was a holiday at Dan's house. The windows were dark, there was no wreath on the door. He had briefly considered getting a small Christmas artificial tree to put on his dining room table, but the idea of going to the mall and wading through crowds of shoppers made him drop the idea. Who would see it anyway? He avoided the Christmas party at the office as well, telling co-workers that he had a migraine. Everyone tried to be nice, of course, but they didn't get it. Ann had been gone four months now and Dan was still just going through the motions. His days passed as if he were sitting alone in a theater watching an old black-and-white movie run over and over again. Many days he wondered why he was still living and wished he had been the one to get cancer. Dan was thirty-six years old, well-educated, a smart and successful architect. He was fit and handsome as well, standing a little over six feet tall with broad shoulders and a washboard stomach that he inspected in the mirror each morning when he got out of the shower. He had a taste for expensive clothes and wore them well. Seeing his dark, curly hair framing a boyish face, some of his clients found it hard to believe he was old enough to be the managing partner of his firm. But there were other things they'd never believe about him. Such as the fact that he was sitting at home alone on Christmas Eve getting drunk. But what else could he do? He didn't know any single women to ask out, and he detested going to singles' bars where all the losers with painted-on smiles desperately searched the room for someone to go home with. He would rather drink himself to oblivion than subject himself to that kind of torture. The darkness was descending now and the wind was kicking up in frigid, piercing gusts. In the fading light, tiny snowflakes began to swirl and form a thin coating on the wooden boards of the deck. Dan got up and stumbled into the house. The kitchen, with its sleek white cabinets and stainless steel appliances -- one of Dan's pet projects back in the old days -- now seemed as cold and sterile as an operating room. He began to pace aimlessly, walking into the dining room, then into the living room and back to the kitchen, like an animal in a cage. He stopped at the refrigerator and was reaching for another beer when he heard a bang on the back door. "Hey, Danny, you at home?" a muffled voice called. What the fuck? Who would come to visit on a night like this? Dan opened the door and peered out with surprise to see his young neighbor, Timothy, standing in the swirling snow. He had no hat or coat; he was standing in jeans and a long-sleeved plaid shirt, shivering. His cheeks were red and his light brown hair was matted with glistening snow. It took him a moment to process. "What the hell? Well, C'mon in!" said Dan, shoving the screen door open. Tim wiped his feet and quickly stepped inside, slapping his sides. "Damn it's cold! How's it going, man?" He sputtered and grinned. Tim was almost ten years younger than Dan and somewhat smaller in stature, with almost-blond hair and freckles on his cheeks that gave him the fresh-scrubbed look of a schoolboy. He was a newcomer to the neighborhood, having moved into the decrepit little frame cottage at the end of the block the previous summer. In realtor's parlance his place was a "fixer-upper," meaning that it needed serious rehab to escape the wrecking ball. Tim had picked it up for a song, though, and was working to fix it up in his spare time. Tim was also gay, but Dan didn't mind that. Dan had never been troubled by queer guys as long as they didn't talk with a lisp or prance around with studs in their tongues. Tim was actually a pretty regular guy as far as gays were concerned. He worked for a construction company and didn't have any overtly feminine mannerisms, as far as Dan could see. He actually reminded Dan of a few guys he had known in high school who didn't bother going to college. Just regular good old boys. After graduation they got jobs at the steel mill, bought pickup trucks, watched Monday night football and tossed down beers when they finished their shifts. Tim was a guy like that. And surprisingly, they always seemed happy. They weren't social climbers, they didn't care what people thought of them, they didn't worry about the economy or the next election. There were times when Dan wanted to be a regular guy like that. The first time these two men met, Dan mentioned that he was an architect and it wasn't long before Tim started dropping by, asking for tips about remodeling his fixer-upper house. Dan didn't mind sharing his knowledge because the younger man had an easygoing personality and a wicked sense of humor. After they had gotten to know each other, they developed a sort of running joke between them. Tim would tease Dan about being straight-laced, stressed-out straight guy, and Dan would pretend to be shocked by Tim's licentious gay lifestyle. Sometimes they would say outrageous things to each other, and it would lead to some entertaining conversations. And then... when Ann died... Dan shook his head remembering. Tim sent a flower arrangement to the funeral home and stopped by the house with a box of donuts from the local bakery. Dan was truly touched. It was a very unexpected kindness that he wouldn't soon forget. "Sit down. Have a beer," Dan ordered, pointing to a chair. "Thanks, I don't mind if I do!" The young man wiped his brow and sat down at the kitchen table. He popped open the can and looked at the falling snow through the kitchen window. "I was out on the ladder caulking a window and it got too dark to see. I thought I saw you sitting out on your deck, so I thought I'd come over and say howdy." "Are you nuts? It's crazy to be up on a ladder working in weather like this. You don't even have a jacket on!" "Yeah, I know. Hell of a way to spend Christmas eve, isn't it? But I didn't have anything better to do. So, tell me the truth. How are you doing, Danny? Are you still hangin' in there?" "Oh, everything's just peachy," said Dan, drumming his fingers on the table. Then he felt embarrassed, realizing there was no need to be sarcastic with his young friend. "Actually it's been a lousy day," he muttered. "Definitely not in the holiday spirit, you know?" "Sorry to hear that." "It sucks to be alone on Christmas Eve." "For sure! I know the feeling," Tim agreed. "Hey, maybe it's a good night to get hammered," Tim offered, smiling. Dan grunted. He was well on his way to meeting that goal already, and nodded. He looked across the table at Tim's freckles and grinned mischievously. "So tell me, what do fairies do on Christmas eve for fun? Party with Santa's elves?" Tim grinned. "Yeah, or caulk holes." "Huh! I'll bet. Play with toys in Santa's workshop? C'mon, seriously. What do gay dudes like you do for fun at Christmas?" Tim shook his head. "We do the same thing you straight guys do. We just have more fun at it." "Such as?" Tim shrugged. "Go out. Go to Clubs. Drink. Listen to music. Dancing." Dan chuckled. "No offense, but I gotta laugh when I think of you on the dance floor prancing around with another guy. What about the bath houses? Sex orgies?" Tim's left eyebrow arched. "Well, I'm not gonna lie. There might be a few activities like that, too. I can show you if you're interested." "Ya never know, a few more beers and I might take you up on it," laughed Dan. "Yeah, right! You're so straight they probably used you in school to draw lines on the black board." They were falling back into their friendly, teasing banter. The two men looked awkwardly at each other for a moment, then Tim stared down at the top of the kitchen table. He wiped his hand over his mouth and leaned back in his chair. "So, you must be feeling pretty lonely, huh?" "You could say that! I haven't been laid in six months, dude. I could hump a reindeer." "You need some distraction, man. Maybe it's time you found yourself a girlfriend?" Dan's eyes suddenly darkened. "I don't think I want another girlfriend, dude. My last one left me high and dry." "Aw, c'mon, man, there must be a zillion beautiful women out there dying to get laid by a handsome guy like you." Dan shot Tim a silent, angry stare. "Oh God, that was a terrible choice of words, Danny, I'm sorry, man!" "So am I, goddamn it." In the long, awkward silence that followed, a sudden blast of wind rattled the window and there was a loud splintering noise from outside, followed by a crash that made both men jump in their seats. The kitchen lights flickered off and on, and then went dark. "What the fuck was that!?" Both men went to the door and looked out. At the back of the yard a large tree branch was lying on the ground. Apparently it had taken the power line with it. "Well shit! Another one like that and I might have to change my underwear," said Tim. It was dark in the house now and the two men sat listening to the wind. It seemed as though the storm's energy was gathering itself up for another violent release. They shut the door. "Hold on, dude, let me find some light," mumbled Dan, and he made his way unsteadily to a cabinet drawer by the kitchen stove. He fumbled around until he found a candle and matches. He lit the candle and set it on the counter where it cast a weak, wavering light against the walls. Tim came over and the two men stared down at the candle like scouts sitting around a campfire. "Is there anything I can do for you, man? I'm serious," said Tim. "No worries," said Dan, slurring his words. "Still have plenty of beers in the fridge." "I don't mean that kind of help." "Well, you can fix the fucking lights," Dan said, laughing. "Or call the fucking electric company." Another gust of wind rattled the windows. Hesitantly, for he felt very unsure of himself, Tim reached over and put a hand on the small of Dan's back. Dan started. "Huh? What?"" Tim started to draw his hand away. "You're so stressed, I thought maybe you could use a little massage or somethin'," he said. Dan stood motionless, holding his breath, staring at the candle's flame. When he finally spoke his voice was so soft it was almost inaudible. "It's okay. I don't mind." Tim paused. "Sure?" Dan nodded. Carefully and slowly, as if walking on eggshells, Tim stood behind Dan and put his hands on the older man's shoulders. He pressed his fingers against the base of Dan's neck and began to give him a gentle massage, kneading the muscles with his strong fingertips and thumbs. Dan tensed and shuddered. He took a long, deep breath, then leaned against the counter and closed his eyes as Tim massaged him. "That feels good," he whispered. * * * * Dan struggled to breathe. It had been so long since anyone had touched him! Yes, it felt strange to have a man's large hands rubbing his shoulders, but the simple act of having physical contact with another human being made Dan want to cry out in gratitude. Before Ann died Dan didn't realize how much he needed to be touched. Tim's hands were large and strong, but they moved with gentleness and it was hard to think of them as the hands of a construction laborer. Tim's fingers moved up and down in gentle arcs along his back and shoulder blades, applying pressure in a soothing, sensual rhythm. It was a wonderful, reassuring feeling. "You're real tense," said Tim. "Try to relax." Dan had a feeling that he shouldn't let Tim touch him like this. His friend might get the wrong impression! But he couldn't bring himself to tell him to stop, either. It just felt so damn good. And while this was happening, strange thoughts began to flood into his mind -- old memories that took him by surprise. As he listened to the wind and watched the flickering candle, Dan remembered how jealous he was as a small child when he learned that some of his friends had brothers to play with. Dan was an only child and much of his youth was spent alone in his room, reading and drawing pictures, making up stories and wishing he had someone to share secrets with. It wasn't fair that other boys had brothers -- sometimes more than one -- while he didn't have any at all! One year his parents gave him a puppy for Christmas, but it wasn't the same as having a real brother. It seemed like he was always lonely. That aching feeling--why was is it coming back now? And then Dan remembered the night when a schoolmate came to spend the night for a sleepover at his house and they went to his bedroom after dinner. They began to wrestle on the floor and took turns pinning each other on the carpet, testing their muscles and pressing their bodies together. It was fun and exhilarating! But Dan's stepfather heard the commotion and told them to stop. "Boys your age shouldn`t play like that," his stepfather said. "People could get the wrong idea." Dan wasn't sure what was wrong, since he had seen grown men wrestling on TV, but he gathered that there must be something unacceptable about it. After that, he'd been wary of letting other boys get too close to him physically. It felt safer to keep a distance. Now, with Tim standing so close behind him that he could feel his warm breath, Dan wondered what his step-father would say. Dan closed his eyes and felt all his muscles begin to melt. He felt very dizzy, and then felt Tim's body pressing in against him. Was it really wrong to do this? Was it wrong for two men to enjoy each other's company and show affection in a physical way? This was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. It was both comforting and strange. If the lights suddenly came back on, should he pretend that nothing had happened? After several minutes Tim stopped massaging Dan's shoulders and the two men stood side by side, looking at each other by the kitchen counter. Half of Tim's face was in shadow, but the flame of the candle reflected in his eyes and looked like liquid fire. Dan's head was spinning. Tim's lips moved, but Dan couldn't quite make out what he was saying. "If you want to. . ." Tim was whispering. ". . . help you relax . . . don't be embarrassed." Dan couldn't make out the words. "What...? What are you doing?" Suddenly, Tim was getting down on his knees. He tugged on Dan's belt. Dan tried to brush him away, but Tim was insistent. As Dan watched in befuddled amazement, Tim unzipped his trousers and let them fall to the floor, and then eased Dan's boxer shorts down over his hips. Dan felt cool air on his legs and Tim leaned forward. What the fuck was he doing? Tim bent down and took Dan's soft, warm penis in his mouth. Dan moaned. "Oh my God!" He could hardly believe it! As he peered down, Tim's mouth engulfed his fat penis, pulling and stretching it out with gentle suction. His mouth felt deliciously warm. As the stimulation continued, his penis began to swell and rise like a soldier standing to attention, and Tim kept sucking it until it disappeared down his throat. "Oh God!" said Dan, "Oh Jeezus, Tim, that feels so good!" In fact, Dan had never felt anything like it before. Ann had kissed him down there a few times before they got married, but she never enjoyed taking him into her mouth, and he had never tried to coerce her. Now Tim was doing it and the sensation was indescribable, better than anything he had ever imagined. It felt like his penis was being engulfed and caressed in warm liquid velvet. Dan clutched at the counter. He swayed and stumbled as his ankles caught in his undershorts. Tim stood up and took him by the arm. "C'mon, let's go here into the living room," he suggested. With his erection bobbing stiffly in front of him, Dan kicked off his shorts and trousers and followed Tim into the living room and sat on the couch by the fireplace. It was chilly and Tim lit the gas logs in the fireplace. Then Tim got down on the floor to resume what he had started in the kitchen, but first he pulled off Dan's shoes and socks and unbuttoned his shirt. Then he directed Dan to lean back in the couch and spread his legs. Dan's buttocks stuck to the cold leather seat as he parted his knees, but he obeyed. First, Tim ran his hands over Dan's thighs, feeling the rounded firm muscles. Then Tim put his face down into Dan's lap and took the rigid organ into his mouth again, sucking gently at first on the rounded head, and then moving his head up and down the shaft in long, rhythmic strokes. Dan's penis was long and thick, but Tim took the whole thing into his throat down to the base. And while he sucked, he reached between Dan's legs and cupped his scrotum in his hand, rolling the large hairy balls in their velvety skin sac. Dan moaned loudly and closed his eyes. "Oh fuck! Tim, oh fuck!" The sexual pleasure rolled over him like ocean waves. It roiled far down below his belly where the root of his manhood thrust up between his legs and washed over his naked thighs in swells. His crotch was bathed in soothing wetness and warmth, and in his reverie he dreamed of a beautiful young girl straddling his body, riding gently on his organ. But then he opened his eyes and saw his young male neighbor with his lips intimately compressed around his shaft , and he gasped aloud at the sight. "Oh, Jeezus, Tim!" he exclaimed, pushing his fingers through the young man's soft curls. "Please don't stop! Let me see you," he whispered. "Jesus, please let me see you, I want to see you naked." Compliantly, Tim unbuttoned his plaid shirt and stripped it off. Then he stood up and stripped off his jeans and pushed his white cotton briefs over his hips. In the dim light of the fireplace logs Dan could see his pale thighs and his manly erection bobbing up at a 45 degree angle from a tangle of dark hair between his legs. "I never touched a man before!" whispered Dan. "It's no problem," said Tim. "You don't have to do anything for me." But Dan found the young man's body strangely enticing. "Let me touch you." He reached out and stroked one finger along Tim's thigh, and when Tim got closer Dan placed a hand on one of Tim's ass cheeks and squeezed it. It felt warm and firm. The two men looked at each other. No words were spoken. Then, slowly, Dan brought his other hand up between Tim's legs and circled his fingers around the shaft of his long, hard penis. He tightened his fingers around the warm, hairy shaft and sighed. "So this is what it's like," he murmured. At Dan's urging, Tim sat on the couch and the two men began to caress each other between the legs, stroking each other's erections and fondling each other's balls. Once he got over the strangeness and embarrassment, Dan found this very comforting and pleasurable. He pushed his fingertips through Tim's pubic hair. "I never knew it could be this way," he whispered, gently squeezing Tim's cock. Tim leaned in and brought his lips close to Dan's ear. "I tried to tell you," whispered the younger man, grinning. "You were too fucking uptight to listen." As they comforted and pleasured each other with mutual fondling, Dan felt Tim's fingers touching and caressing other places on his body. He felt Tim's fingers run over his stomach and play gently with his nipples, which were very sensitive to touch. He felt a growing hunger inside. And then the hunger became an urgent need for release, and his hips moved involuntarily in rhythm to Tim's stroking fist. Tim saw that Dan was getting close to his climax. "Let me finish you," Tim whispered, and slid off the couch onto his knees again between Dan's open thighs. He leaned down to Dan's crotch and began to suck him again, taking the head and the shaft into his throat. Dan's legs trembled and his stomach muscles contracted into a hard knot. His penis felt like a stiff pole and he wanted to thrust it deeply into Tim's mouth. As alternating waves of pleasure and tension began to roll over him again, he silently ran his tongue over his lips. Involuntarily, his lips vainly sought out another mouth. Suddenly his hips rose off the couch and with an immense groan he began shooting a heavy load of semen into Tim's mouth, thrusting his body as the sperm was expelled. His testicles were full to bursting and they slapped heavily against Tim's chin as his body jerked. Each contraction brought another forceful jet and a feeling of intense relief as it left his body. And Tim, tasting the hot jets, emitted a deep growl of satisfaction, for he loved drinking men's seed and he rarely got such a flood as Dan was giving him. He gripped the base of Dan's penis in one hand and swallowed as much of the warm liquid as he could, milking it out of the big round head. Some of it dribbled down the shaft, and when the pulsing finally stopped he licked the shaft and the balls, savoring the musky taste until Dan went limp. After that he used his tongue to clean the sticky fluid from Dan's pubic hair as well, and Dan, completely spent, collapsed back into the couch. The room was getting more chilly. Tim got dressed and went into the bedroom to get a pillow and a blanket. He slid the pillow under Dan's head and tucked the blanket around Dan's naked body. Then he went into the kitchen and found a pencil and a piece of paper and wrote a note. "Merry Christmas, Danny," he wrote. "Many thanks for the beautiful Christmas present you gave me! Call me if you want to talk, I'll be at home." He added his phone number and placed the note near the coffee maker where Dan would be sure to see it in the morning, then extinguished the candle. The house was quiet now except for the sound of Dan's deep, steady breathing on the living room couch. Tim opened the back door and let himself out. The light snow on the ground crunched under his feet and the air was frigid, but Tim had a smile on his face because he could still taste Dan's delicious semen. He knew it had been a long time for Dan because his seed left a thick coating in his mouth and had a strong, musky flavor that Tim savored. As he walked home, he noticed that the wind had died down and a pale moon was peeking though the misty clouds. Somewhere off in the distance he heard a lonely bird calling. Comments welcome: address to Orgone3@gmail.com