Copyright 2002 by

This is a fictional story, no elves or reindeer were injured in its creation. This story is of holiday giving between friends, young and old. If you don't like friendship, don't read it. If you don't like love, I'm sorry for you. If you are not old enough to legally read this, find your friend and have him read it to you. You can send me comments, but if you are one of those who like to send viruses to authors, it will be blocked and I will send your name to Santa as NOT NICE!


Stocking Stuffer

The weather outside was frightful! Gawd, it was horrible. The storm was roaring up the Ohio River Valley with snow and sleet to the north and rain and freezing rain to the south. The winds in Texas had exploded a shopping mall and sent trees everywhere. In Louisiana it was coming from the direction opposite of the prevailing hurricanes. In the Midwest it was snowing so hard that interstate 70 had been closed for a time.

In my front yard it was howling and dumping snow in huge drifts. In my back yard it was blowing against the windows of my study, buffeting the combination storm panes. I knew what they meant when they talked about rattling the shutters. If my house had them, they would have been in full rattle! I didn't envy Santa his sleigh ride this Christmas Eve, the old fella was in for a cold and stormy time tonight. I hope it didn't give him any ideas about early retirement! To many boys in the world were watching for him to bring them a little joy.

I was at least cozy. My study was a little different and probably not a very good role model for other authors, but it worked for me. The computer was on an end table next to the recliner, I had long ago discovered that the best way for me to write did not involve a desk. Rather, I'd relax in the chair with my feet up and the 17" flat screen next to the foot rest. I'd use a touchpad pointing device (read "mouse", if you've never seen one) on another end table and the keyboard would fit comfortably in my lap. I could type for hours without fatigue.

The best thing was the fireplace across the room. Even though I loved the smell of wood, I'd installed a gas fireplace in the study and arranged the grate with huge volcanic rocks, like the little ones in a BBQ, but up-sized. It didn't need tending and the glow of the rocks gave off heat long after the fire was put out. Well, in this storm I had it toasting away and even with the howling storm, I was cozy and warm.

The fireplace had been such a nice addition to my home, I had focused most of my winter living around it. I fact, the only Holiday decoration I bothered with at home was to place my family childhood stockings on the mantle. These weren't your normal commercial red and white stocking imitations, but real work sox that my mother had embroidered for me and my sister Stephanie, my father and herself. They were one of my fondest Christmas memories and a cherished reminder of a wonderful childhood.

I was working on a story for Nifty and had been clipping right along; a little character development, a little plot, a little virtual cuddle. I had to refresh my hot chocolate a couple of times and although I had saved the story, I hadn't split it into chapters yet, so it was one big file.

I find it very interesting that the act of writing these stories was as erotic to me as reading other authors works. I guess I've always been a dripper, I remember in Junior High School I had decided I had to wear a certain brand of tighty whities because the pouch was double thick and when I got hard in class looking at the hot guys I'd start to leak like mad. In fact, I could leak over about anything. Well that hadn't changed much and writing or reading would set my dick to flowing with precum.

This day was no different and although I had given up the whities when I began doing my own laundry, I still was conscious of wearing cotton to soak up the effluent. Today I was in only sweats, not because the room was cold, but just because the storm outside seemed to require it. Of course they had already soaked up a little puddle, but I sure wasn't going out, so it didn't matter.

I'd been writing a couple of hours and had a pretty steamy story going when I'd gotten stuck on where to take the plot after a particularly hot scene. I guess I must have dozed off as I pondered the story line, because suddenly the ringing of the doorbell jarred me awake. I couldn't imagine who would be out in this storm ringing my doorbell, so I hurried to the front door to see.

Oh Gawd, it was Stevie my neighbor. He was standing there shivering in a thin coat, soaked jeans and worn out tennis shoes, holding a snow shovel as big as he was.

"Hi, uh, Nick, uh, can I, uh, shovel your, uh, driveway," he managed to stutter between his chattering teeth.

"Stevie!" I exclaimed, intelligently.

"Uh, Yeah," he shivered back, "I need a job, uh, and this storm, uh, seems to need, uh, shoveling."

"Shoveling my ass!" I exclaimed. Seeing his face fall in disappointment, I quickly grabbed his shovel and jammed it in the snowbank, I grabbed him by the shoulders, sweeping him into the foyer and continued, "This storm needs HOT CHOCOLATE! Get your little butt in by the fire in the study and let me get you a big mug to warm you up!"

"Ttthanks," he stammered, "Really? Hot Chocolate?"

"Yes, now get in there!" I said and shoved him gently toward the study door.

"Kewl!" he said. Before he took a step toward the study, he stopped and kicked out of his beat up tennies, setting them neatly on the mat and then scampering into the den.

I thought I'd cry, the kid had no socks and I could tell his shoes were ripped and torn as well as soaked. His feet must have been freezing.

Entering the study with a steaming mug of chocolate, I saw Stevie was practically standing in the fireplace trying to get warm. I came up to him and handing him the chocolate, I cupped his hands under mine around the mug. His fingers were almost blue and as I looked down at his feet, I could tell they must be numb with the cold.

"Stevie, how long have you been outside?" I gently asked.

"Uh, about two hours," he said more to the mug of chocolate than to me. "I tried to do Mrs. Spritz's drive, but the wind kept blowing it back. I thought maybe yours would be easier with the wind from behind the house." He took a little sip and I saw him wince as the warm liquid hit his frozen lips.

"You little imp, you're frozen! Come on, we've got to get you warmed up."

I lead him to the master bath and he followed along nearly stumbling with fatigue. I started the shower and adjusted the water to slightly warm, but not hot. I knew if he did have the beginnings of frostbite on his feet we had to be careful and not have the water too hot. I also put the plug in the drain. After getting him in quickly, I intended that he have a good soak and get the warmth deep into his body core.

It's amazing how boys can have such multiple personalities. Stevie was 11 or 12, I wasn't sure which, but I knew he was in sixth grade. He mowed my lawn in the summer and helped around the garden and always showed a willingness to work and learn that was refreshing. I'd seen him with his friends too, and he was a leader in games and a boisterous all boy kid when playing at the park. Today he was a lost lamb; vulnerable and damaged. He made no protest as I unzipped his light jacket and tossed it behind us. I almost cried again, he had nothing but a ratty t-shirt on beneath the coat. I took the hot chocolate and set it on the counter and then lifted the t-shirt over his head. His body was covered in goose bumps and his dime sized nipples must have been painful they were so erect.

"Please," he whispered and reached out for the cup of chocolate again.

"Of course, sweetie," I said and handed it back to him. He sighed and held the cup to his lips, more drifting in the stream rising around his nose than sipping the chocolate.

"Thanks, Nick, this smells and feels so good."

"Your welcome, Stevie, we must get you warm, you are almost fozen and we have to get you warm."

"Okay," he sighed.

As I undid the snap on his jeans he shuddered again from the cold in his body. I lowered his zip and gently reached behind to slip his jeans off and this time I did cry. The seat of his jeans were paper thin and he had no underwear on. His cut little penis was pulled tight into his body displaying only its head which was pure white, showing none of the healthy pink that would indicate normal blood flow. His testicles had actually drawn up inside his pelvic cavity, he had been so cold. He lifted each leg as I gently removed his jeans and then he stepped into the tub as I guided him to the end away form the flowing water.

Ever so slowly I guided him back under the flowing water and he moaned softly as it washed over his back and shoulders. It must have been what the doctor ordered, he handed the chocolate to me and stepped back on his own, letting the water rush over his head and down his entire body. Then he slowly raised his arms over his head and began to turn under the water. I watched in awe as he slowly spun around and began humming some tuneless song known only to himself. He must have turned around and around for five minutes before he stepped back and as if he knew what I intended, sat down and then stretched out full length in the tub letting the accumulated water wash over and around his whole body.

He was so beautiful lying there. I switched the water from the shower to the tap and added an ounce of tea tree bath oil, knowing that the aromatherapy qualities of this restorative could do nothing but help his body recover from the stress of the storm. I stared again and marveled at how angelic he looked, soaking and humming his tune.

Quietly I whispered, "Stevie, you just soak for a few minutes, I'm going to get some towels and a blanket."

"Mmmm," was the only reply.

I picked up his jeans and t-shirt and although I wanted to scream at whoever left him to wear these rags, I threw them in the washer to get them clean. Once he was warm again, he might feel uncomfortable if he didn't have his own clothes. I went to the cupboard and got two big beach towels and then stopped in the bedroom and grabbed the fleece throw I had just purchased. Interestingly, when I bought it I didn't have a clue why I was getting it. It was just a remnant of fleece at a fabric store. About three yards of 54 inch fabric, but I had fallen for the pattern of polar bears and snowflakes along the edges. Getting it home, I didn't know where to put it and had just stuffed it in the bedroom closet. Now, thinking of Stevie freezing, I went to it automatically and knew that it would be perfect to wrap him up, with the fleece side in! Suddenly I knew why I had needed to buy it. Stevie needed it and right now he needed me.

Returning to the bathroom, I could see Stevie was reviving. He was still humming his song, but his toes were wiggling and his hands were quietly pushing the water in waves across his chest. His nipples had relaxed and his little package had responded to the warmth. His cocklet, while still small, had lengthened to about two inches and his little balls had reemerged and while still held tight to his body, they were clearly visible; about the size of the little chocolate Easter eggs. I blushed as my mind involuntarily wondered if they would taste as sweet.

"Ready to climb out?" I asked.

"Umphh," he replied, "Just a few more minutes, this smells even better than the hot chocolate."

"Okay, I'll refill your mug while you soak a little more."

Returning with the mug, I found him sitting up on the tub, eyes bright and shining. "Thanks, Nick, this was the greatest! I didn't know I was so cold."

"It's okay honey," I said, "Let's get you out and dry and we can continue warming you up by the fire."

"Kewl," he sighed, and stood up in the tub. Giving himself a little shake, he stepped out on the bathmat and put his hands over his head again. "Dry me please?"

"I'd love to, sweetie," I answered and starting at his outstretched fingers and worked my way down his body drying and rubbing life back into his pores.

"Oh, that feels wonderful," he sighed.

"Yes, it feels wonderful to me too, sweetheart," I sighed back. In fact, it felt so wonderful and he looked so beautiful standing before me that I felt my body begin it's age old response; my balls started my juices flowing freely once again.

As I carefully avoided any touch which might make him uncomfortable, I finished drying his feet. Moving his feet apart and putting his hands behind his back he thrust his hips forward and quietly asked, "Here too, please?"

There was no shyness or embarrassment and he knew what he was asking. I whispered, "Of course, babe," and gently wiped and dried his inner thighs and under his now distending balls. As he sighed in contentment, I gently rolled his balls in the towel and stoked his rapidly rising boyhood.

He thrust into the warm towel a couple of times and then grabbed me around the shoulders and jammed his hard little pole into my hand and grunted, "Ugh, ugh," and then shivered and twitched as his body went over the top into dry orgasm.

He collapsed against me and hugged tight as I dropped the towel and hugged him into an embrace.

"I love you," he whispered into my ear as he clung to me.

"You're so beautiful, sweetie," I whispered back as I reached behind him and grabbed the fleece and wrapped him tightly.

Lifting him into my arms, I carried him to the study and sat in the recliner cuddling him to me.

"Uhmm." he sighed and then began his humming again as he settled in. Soon he was quietly asleep in my arms.

I must have dozed too, because the next I knew a feather light touch was against my cheek. I opened my eyes to see the angel in my lap gazing up at me and as he was humming his song he was caressing my face.

"I love you Nick," he whispered up to me. "You saved my life this morning. I bet I would have frozen outside."

"I think you're exaggerating a little," I laughed. "Your mother would have been looking for you soon."

"No, she's gone," he said. "That's why I need a job. She hasn't been home all week and I'm out of things to eat," he began quietly sobbing as he buried his face in the blanket and my chest. "I don't know what I'm going to do. I was so scared I knew I had to get some money, then it would be okay."

"Oh, babe, it'll be okay now. I'll take care of you now and we'll get this sorted out. If you ran out of food, when did you eat last?"

"I had the last cereal yesterday morning," he answered.

"Oh babe, frozen and starved! I'll kill her when I see her! Let's get you something to eat and then we can sort out our plan."

Lifting him in my arms I carried him into the kitchen and sat him at the table still wrapped in his fleece polar bears. As I began to putter around the kitchen he brightened a little and asked, "Do you have bacon and eggs? I love that and I never get to have it!"

"Two over easy, bacon and toast coming right up, need a cup of Joe with that Mister?" I called in my best imitation of a diner waitress.

"No Joe please, but could I have some more hot chocolate?" he giggled.

"One brown cow, toasted, right to you!" I called back and now he did dissolve into a full pile of fleece bears, snowflakes and laughing boy.

Placing a fresh cup of chocolate from the micro in front of him, I finished flipping the bacon and added the eggs to the skillet.

"That smells heavenly," he sighed.

"You're a pretty smelly boy aren't you?" I playfully asked.

"Huh?" he sputtered through the cocoa.

"Well, you loved the smell of the hot chocolate, then you thought the bath oil smelled even better than that and now the bacon smells heavenly!" I grinned.

"Oh," he said, " I thought maybe you meant I was stinky."

"Well, your jeans and t might have been, but they're clean now and I just put them in the dryer."

"Do I have to put them back on?" he cringed, "This blanket feels soooo nice and I don't wear clothes at home."

"No babe, you don't have to do anything, but feel warm and safe."

"You're the best," he grinned and hopped up, rushed over opening the blanket and pulling me into a huge hug.

"Hey, tiger," I said tousling his hair, "Get back over there, here comes the chow."

I served up the bacon and eggs and watched as he virtually inhaled it.

When he was finished he left the blanket and hopped up without the least embarrassment, taking the dishes to the sink and rinsing them and placing them in the dish washer. Then he straightened the table and came over to me for another hug. Giggling, he said, "Can we go back by the fire?"

"Sure, babe, you get the blanket and I'll get a couple of cups of hot chocolate."

"'K," he said and grabbing his blanket of bears and snowflakes he flashed my with his little white butt as he scampered into the study.

I joined him quickly and as I sent the chocolate down he crawled into my lap and resumed the cuddle he had shared so peacefully earlier. A few minutes later he wiggled around and looking up at me he quietly asked, "Nick, my toes are cold, do you have something I can put on them? I think my shoes are still wet."

"I don't think so babe, all my socks are stupid old men nylon things, not very warm and I've never had any slippers."

"Oh," he shivered.

Just then I hugged him closer and glanced across the room at the fireplace. It hit my like a lightening bolt. Of course, that was why I had still had them too.

Scooting him off my lap, I laughed, "Come here sweetie, I do have the perfect thing." As I lead him to the fireplace his eyes were glowing and when I took the stockings that said Mom and Dad down and softly lifted his feet and put them on him, I thought he was going to cry.

Carrying him back to the recliner and settling in again, I whispered, "You're the best stocking stuffer I could hope for Santa to bring. Maybe the stockings left hanging for Nicky and Stephy will let Santa know that your gifts should be left here with mine when he visits."

"I think Santa already left me the best present," he beamed. "YOU!" he sniffled as he tried to crush me in another hug.