Date: Sun, 06 Jul 2008 16:02:59 +0000
From: Hankster1430@bellsouth.net
Subject: Snowbound (short story)

SNOWBOUND:
A Love Story

Mildred and Arthur Stone had never been much for religious practice or
church dogma.  Nevertheless they were members of St. Matthew Episcopal
Church.  The church was just shy of five miles from their home in
Minneapolis, but they rarely attended, not even Easter or Christmas
mornings.

When Mildred was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor in their
thirty-seventh year of marriage, Art was devastated.  They had no family at
all, except for one son in California.  He lived in San Diego and they had
not heard from him in almost ten years.  When Tom first moved to the west
coast, they stayed in touch and visited him once or twice a year.  On one
of their visits, Tom introduced them to his friend Carl Stanton.  They
immediately liked Carl, and Art even let Tom know that he had good taste in
friends.  Before the end of the visit, Tom told his parents that he and
Carl had committed to each other and were planning on living together as
soon as they could find a bigger apartment.  Art was heartless
thereafter. He called Tom a faggot and he screamed that Tom was a total
disappointment as a son, and he and Mildred cut their visit short.  This
was something, he always regretted, but he didn't know how to reach out to
his son to ask for forgiveness and reestablish any sort of relationship.
He didn't even know for sure that Tom and Carl were still in San Diego.
How was he going to inform Tom when Mildred's time came?  Not, he guessed.

Mildred suffered terribly for nearly two years.  Radiation and chemotherapy
destroyed her frail body.  At the end, she didn't know Art, or much else
for that matter.  Art was still working when she got sick, but he was
eligible for retirement.  He took early retirement and a reduced pension so
that he could care for Mildred.  He was five years short of social security
when he retired, but he didn't mind.  He took care of her like no one else
could.  If she drooled slightly when he fed her, he would immediately
change the bed sheets and her night gown.  No trained nurse could have
attended to her needs any better.  In the end she died on a chilly
Halloween evening.  She died in Art's arms as he sobbed hard and bitter
tears.

Every fifth of the month, Art received his church bulletin which he usually
tossed in the circular file. However, when he received the November issue
he glanced through it.  The funeral parlor had asked for his church
affiliation and he thought correctly that there might be an obituary.
There was a full page obituary for Father Alfred Cole's wife.  She had died
on the same day as Mildred.  The obit went on and on about her contribution
to the church community, and Art just scanned through it.  At the bottom of
the long article were two smaller obits.  One was Mildred's which listed
her year of birth, year of death, maiden name and the fact that she was
survived by her husband of thirty-nine years, Arthur Stone, and a son
Thomas in San Diego.

The other obit was even shorter.  The deceased was Andrew Brown.  He was
sixty-two years old, died after a long illness, and was survived by his
long time friend and companion, Russell Taylor.  Art paid no attention to
it.  He never really read it, merely glancing over it.

An article on the back page of the bulletin caught his eye.  Father Alfred,
due to his own grief, was initiating a support bereavement group at the
church beginning immediately after the New Year.  The group would meet
every Thursday at the church from 6 to 7 PM.  After all the months of
caring for Mildred, and without much else to occupy his time, Art decided
to attend the first meeting.

He spent Thanksgiving and Christmas alone in his house, feeling sorry for
himself.  To his credit, he did think of trying to locate his son, but at
the moment it was just too much effort for him.  After many years of
absence, he did attend Christmas morning services at the church, but slunk
out of the church in an effort to avoid the pastor.

On the day of the first bereavement group meeting, he found a million
reasons not to go, but his loneliness prevailed and he dragged himself to
the church.  He was the last to arrive.  Besides the pastor, there were
three others; himself, two other men and a woman.  Father Cole passed a
small 3 x 5 index card to each and asked that they write down their names,
addresses, telephone numbers and E Mail addresses.  Art was the only one
without access to the internet.

Alfred began by introducing himself by his first name.  He urged everyone
to start with first names only so that the group would be more informal,
and less stiffly organized.  Everyone spoke for a short while, and told the
group a little about themselves, and how long they had been widowed.

Alfred started.  He had been married for forty-eight years.  He was
seventy-one and not planning to retire until the church kicked him out.
His wife was a wonderful person and he missed her terribly.

Janet Rogers neglected to give her age or how long she had been married.
She didn't speak much about her husband and she didn't seem to be in
terrible grief.  Art concluded that she was here to get another husband
quick.  He figured that she was about fifty-five.  Jake Farrell, one of the
other two gentlemen was about sixty and Art thought that Jake was picking
up Janet's vibes, and even if he was not interested in marriage, there was
going to be some serious sex there if he wanted it.

After Jake spoke, Art had his turn.  He had been married for thirty-nine
years, and was sixty-two.  He retired to care for his wife, whom he missed
terribly.  He had a long career as a mechanical engineer, and would have
enjoyed his retirement if Millie hadn't died of brain cancer.

"I feel the same way," Russ, the last gentlemen, spoke up.  "I'm sixty-two
also and I could be enjoying my retirement as well, if I had a companion to
share it with."

"Amen!" Art retorted.  Those few words were the only cross conversation
that had occurred up to that point.  Then the group started to talk freely,
just as if they were sitting in one of their living rooms.  Each avoided
getting too personal about their lost loves.  It was enough that they felt
and shared their grief without having to worry about any one of them saying
the wrong thing.  It was incredible how people never knew what to say to
the bereaved, and invariably said the absolutely worst things.

Janet zeroed in on Jake, leaving Russ and Art to talk together.  Alfred
went back and forth between the two groups.  When they first shook hands,
Art had a warm feeling toward Russ.  Russ had an engaging smile and warm
brown eyes which were open and revealed a good soul.  They spoke easily
about their careers, and how much idle time they both had now.  Both
declared that their unions had been enduring and loving.  There had been
little room for outside acquaintances, something they both now regretted.
As the hour drew to a close it became obvious that Russ was the more
outspoken of the two and would take the lead when he wanted to find out
more about Art.

"Have you eaten dinner yet?" Russ asked Art.

"No, I haven't," Art responded.

"Would you have dinner with me?" Russ asked in a very questioning way.

Art would have preferred to retreat to his self imposed exile, but he
didn't want to be insulting, and he really liked Russ, so he agreed.

"There's a nice little restaurant right around the corner.  The food is
good and the prices are reasonable.  OK with you?"

"Sounds like a plan," Art answered.

Whereas Russ was always outgoing, Art was very introverted.  So that when,
during dinner, Art realized how easily the conversation was going, he was
amazed.  They talked about nothing really, TV shows, movies, plays,
musicals, their former work, etc.  The time went so quickly, they didn't
even realize that they were the last diners in the restaurant.  As they
split the check, Russ asked, "Would you like to have dinner together again
before the next meeting?"  And Art surprised himself by eagerly answering,
"Yes!"

They exchanged telephone numbers and agreed to meet back at this restaurant
at 6:30 Monday evening.

"I left my car on the church lot," Art said.  "Where's yours?"

"Oh, I walked," Russ said.  "My apartment is only one street away."

As the two men shook hands before parting, Art got the warmest feeling.
Both of them displayed wide and happy smiles for the first time in many
months.  They both hated that the evening was ending.

On Sunday morning, Art decided to go to church.  Subconsciously he was
hoping to meet Russ there.  It would be more accurate to say that he prayed
Russ would be there.  When he entered the church, he stood in the rear and
scanned the people already there.  He didn't see Russ, but remained in the
rear, hoping Russ was still to arrive.  He never did.

After the service, Father Alfred greeted him warmly and he was glad he had
come after all.  He even went to the social hour in the social hall.
Several men and women came over to welcome him remarking that they had not
seen him here before.  Art actually felt good about having come.

That evening Art did something that was very atypical for him.  He called
Russ.  When Russ answered he seemed genuinely happy to get Art's call.  "I
wanted to confirm our dinner date for tomorrow," Art white lied.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Russ beamed back right through the
telephone wires.

"I missed you in church this morning," Art said in a gallant attempt to
keep the conversation going.

"Gee!" Russ said.  "I belong to St Matthew, but actually, I don't go to
services there. I attend a different church, Metropolitan Community
Church."  Art had never heard of that church.  "I read about the
bereavement group through the St Matthew church bulletin, and decided to
come by and see what it was all about."  He paused and then continued.
"Art.  I am so glad I did.  If I hadn't I wouldn't have met you."

That sent shivers through Art's body, in the most pleasant of ways.
"Thanks for that," he said.  "I feel the same way."

At dinner the next evening, they began to learn lots more about each other.
Russ was one whole day older than Art.  Both had attended Northwestern and
had actually graduated in the same class.  Art was a retired engineer.
Russ was a retired high school physics teacher.  Don't tell anyone, but
they both loved opera.  Each had let their subscriptions go when their
partners got sick.  They loved the music from the theater equally as well,
also the philharmonic, art museums, and rock concerts.  Neither one
followed sports very much.

Russ asked, "If I can get a couple of tickets to the opera, would you like
to go with me?"

"I'd love to go with you." Art answered.

When they said goodbye they gave each other a very chaste and manly hug as
well as a hand shake.  Every time Art shook Russ' hand a fire went through
him.  He couldn't understand it, but he liked the feeling.

The next evening shortly after dinner, Russ called Art.  "Hey!" he said.
"I got lucky.  I've got two good tickets to Lucia for a week from Saturday
night."

"Fantastic!" Art answered.  "What do I owe you?"

"This one's on me," Russ answered.  "You can get the next one."  The next
one?  Art started to tear.  In all his sixty-two years he had never before
had a male friend to share anything with.  He didn't know what to say so he
said nothing.  After a while Russ was prompted to ask, "Art, are you all
right?"

"Oh yes, I'm just fine."

"Hey, are you doing anything special right now?" Russ asked.

"No."

"Have a drink with me?"  Russ made it into a question.

"I'd be delighted."

"Great!"

Russ gave Art the address of a bar that was about half way between them,
and they agreed to meet in half an hour.  Russ was already at the bar when
Art came in.  They hung their coats on a rack in the vestibule and then
embraced each other warmly.  There was a small table in a corner and Russ
led them to it.  "There's no table service here," Russ said.  "What would
you like?"

"I'll get this round. It's the least I can do," Art said, and now
discovered they both liked scotch and soda.  As he walked to the bar, Art
noticed that all the patrons were men.  There were no women in the room.
He also noticed that when he and Russ were walking to their table, Russ
nodded at one or two of the men and they nodded back as if they knew each
other, but in a very casual way.  Although he was aware of this, he didn't
think much about it.  He was just happy to be with Russ.

Both men had driven here so they agreed to a one drink limit which they
nursed until they couldn't anymore, and then Russ got them each a coke.
Once again they were trying to prolong the time they spent together.  They
were both enjoying each other's company so much.  It was characteristic for
Russ to warm up to people he met casually, but for Art it was a new
experience.  He didn't want to question it.  He just wanted to enjoy it.
Eventually, they both figured it was time to go.  Before they got up to
leave, Russ put his hand on Art's.  Ordinarily, if a guy had done that to
Art, he probably would have flattened him, but he didn't even notice the
`indiscretion.' What Russ did was just natural.  Wasn't it?

"There's a `thirties' film festival at the Orpheum, and I think they're
showing Frankenstein.  Would you like to go tomorrow evening?" Russ asked
Art without removing his hand from Art's.

"You're on, mister," Art answered.  "That's my cup of tea."

"Good!" Russ said.  "When I get home I'll check the show time and call you
to make arrangements."

When he got into his house, Art hardly had time to remove his coat when his
phone rang.

"Hey there," Russ's cheery voice echoed through Art's whole body.  "The
movie starts at 8:15.  You're on the way from me to the movie house so what
say I pick you up about 6 and we can have something to eat downtown before
the show?"

Art wanted to say, "Come much earlier than that so we can talk and talk and
talk."  But how would that sound?  So he just answered in the affirmative.

They ate a quick dinner at a Denny's right down the street from the movie
theater.  They both ordered a breakfast explaining that neither ever had a
real breakfast at home. They laughed at learning they had yet something
else in common.

Frankenstein had scared them both half to death, when they were kids.  Now
it was so corny that they giggled throughout the showing, as did most of
the audience.  Still, they had a marvelous time.  They shared a big bucket
of pop corn which Russ held on his lap.  Every time one of them reached
into the bucket for some popcorn, their hands would touch, but neither of
them seemed to notice.  After the show, even though the Minnesota night
temperature was nearing zero, they found an open ice cream parlor, and
ordered banana splits like a couple of kids.  They took lots of time eating
the splits, each wanting yet again to prolong the night.

This night Art laid his hand on Russ's hand as he said, "Thank you Russ for
being my friend.  I cherish every moment we're together."

"No need to thank me.  I feel exactly the same way," Russ said as he put
his other hand on top of Art's.

Russ drove up to Art's door and Art asked if he would like to come in for
coffee.  "I think not tonight," Russ answered.

"OK pal," Art said as he left the car, "I'll see you tomorrow at the
meeting."

The next day was cold, windy, dank and generally miserable.  Neither of the
men cared to venture outside.  They both spent the day lounging around,
reading, and wishing the other one was there.  Both played opera recordings
on their stereos, and neither ever turned on a TV or a radio.

When Art arrived at the church, it was snowing lightly.  He was surprised
that his was the only car on the parking lot but he was much relieved to
find Russ already there.

"I honestly didn't expect you guys tonight," Alfred said.

"Why not?" they asked in unison.

"Don't you guys listen to weather reports?  There's a blizzard heading our
way, and the authorities have asked everyone to stay indoors if possible."
Of course, neither of them had heard the news.

"Well, as long as you're here we might as well have a meeting," Alfred
said.  It wasn't much of a meeting.  They just sat around and chatted like
three old friends.  Alfred made a big pot of coffee and served it with some
chocolate chip cookies.  They were enjoying it so much that none of them
realized that the one hour `meeting' had stretched to a little over two
hours.  Finally they realized it was time to go.

Art and Russ bundled up.  There was a door in the meeting room which led to
the parking lot.  When Alfred opened the door, they were all amazed.  The
blizzard was raging wildly.  There was a complete white out.  They couldn't
even see Art's car.  Alfred said to Art, "You're not driving out there
tonight.  Would you guys want to stay in my house?  It's just behind the
church."

"No thanks," Russ said.  "I'm right around the corner.  Why don't you stay
with me, Art?"

"I hate to put either of you out," Art said.  Trying not to sound too eager
he accepted Russ' invitation.  He then reached into his pocket and gave
Alfred his car key.  Alfred looked at him questioningly.  "That's in case
I'm not around when the plows come.  The men can move my car if they need
to."

Alfred took the key and let the two men out.  They had to hold on to each
other to keep from falling.  The snow blew into their faces like pellets of
ice.  The three minute walk took them almost fifteen minutes.  Russ lived
in a four plex apartment house on the first floor.  When he let them into
the vestibule, it took the strength of both of them to close the outside
door.  The noise must have disturbed Russ's across the hall neighbor who
popped open her door. There stood an elderly lady who looked like a cherub.

"Oh Russ, darling," she said.  "I was so worried.  Thank God you're home."
Russ introduced Rosie O'Meara to Art and explained that Art couldn't get
home because of the storm so he would be staying with him.

"Well, if you men need anything just knock," she said as she retreated into
her apartment.

Russ' apartment had a living room, an eat in kitchen, a laundry room, one
bathroom and a bedroom, but in spite of that it was quite large.  Each room
was way oversized.  There was an air of lived in comfort here.

They stood in the hallway soaking wet.  "Let's get out of these clothes,"
Russ advised, "before we catch our deaths.  I'll throw everything in the
dryer."  Art stared at Russ as he took everything from his pockets and
placed them on the hall table.  He stripped naked in seconds, and didn't
seem to be embarrassed about his nakedness at all.  "What are you waiting
for?" he asked Art, so Art emptied his pockets and began to strip also.
Russ took all their wet clothes and tossed them into the laundry room.  He
ran into his bedroom, opened a drawer and retrieved two warm up suits.  He
tossed one at Art and started to don the other.

When they had been naked, they gave each other the once over like all men
do when they see other men naked.  They both observed the same thing.  It
was so amazing.  They were both lean, muscular, six feet tall, brown hair,
brown eyes.  Both were circumcised and their cocks were about the same size
at about five inches flaccid, although Russ suspected they were both
slightly aroused because generally he was a little smaller.  They knew that
they were checking each other out and the moment was a little awkward so
Art said for no reason at all, "I have a son, you know.  He lives in
California.  I never circumcised him.  I thought it was barbaric.  He had
the only uncut penis my wife ever saw."  He laughed as he said that.

Russ laughed too.  "Let's retire to the kitchen," he said in a very formal
manner.  "I'll make us some much needed hot chocolate."  Art followed Russ
into the kitchen and sat down on a chair.  "Are you ready to tell me about
your wife, yet, how you met, what your relationship was like and so on?"
Russ asked Art.  Art was so introverted that it shocked him that he
actually wanted to tell this kind man about his life.  As Russ set the
table and prepared the hot chocolate, Art began his short narrative.

We met in my first class on my first day at Northwestern.  I had an English
class and when I walked in I saw her immediately.  She was just beautiful.
Her hair was naturally strawberry blonde, and her blue eyes looked like
laser beams.  I could tell she was tiny even though she was sitting down.
Thank God I had come early.  The desk next to hers was empty and I ran to
claim it.  We smiled at each other and introduced ourselves.  After class,
I walked her to the door and did the bravest thing I'd ever done in my life
up until then.  I asked her if she was having dinner in the school
cafeteria that evening, and when she said yes, I asked her to have dinner
with me.  She accepted and the rest is history.  We were engaged after the
first semester.  Neither of us had siblings and when our folks died we had
nobody but each other.  We lived a fairy tale life until Millie got sick.
We had few friends and didn't need any.  Millie was the first and only
woman I have ever been with."

"What about your son?" Russ asked.

"That's a story for another time." Art evaded the question.  As Russ poured
the hot chocolate, Art asked, "How about you?'

"Well," Russ began, "I probably met Andrew a few hours before you met
Millie.""Stop!" Art rasped.  "Did you say Andrew?  Are you telling me
that your lost love was a man?"

A look of great distress covered Russ' face.  "How could you not know?"
Russ asked.  "I thought it was obvious.  I even told you I attend a gay
church."

"Oh, Russ, I am so sorry for my stupidity.  I told you how naïve I am.
When you used terms like `my partner' or `my companion' I thought it was
because you had not formally married.  I'm not a church goer and that
didn't bother me in the least.

"Are you bothered now?" Russ looked at Art pleadingly.  Art took Russ's
hands in his and answered, "Not in the least, my very dear friend.  If you
were a lion and I was a kitten, I'd still cherish your friendship.  It's
just that things are so much clearer to me now.  Please, please, continue
your story."

"I found my dorm room and I entered without knocking.  I just didn't think
that my future room mate was there already.  I creamed my pants at the
sight of him.  All he was wearing was a pair of boxer shorts.  He was about
5'10" tall and built like the proverbial brick shithouse.  He faced away
from me while unpacking a suitcase, which was lying on his bed and his
bubble butt just bounced all over the place."

As he spoke about Andrew, Russ kept squirming in his chair adjusting his
sweat pants.  It was obvious to Art that Russ was sporting a good size
erection, and he smiled at the thought.  He wondered why he hadn't gotten
erect thinking back to Millie.

Russ continued.  "I quickly closed the door behind me to preserve a little
of my room mate's modesty.  He stuck out his hand and we introduced
ourselves.  He told me to make myself at home and stripped off his boxers.
As soon as he did, I got a hardon that wasn't going to quit without my
relieving it.  I asked him why he did that and he told me that he hated
clothes.  He never wore clothes in private and he loved the feel of his
cock slapping against his inner thigh when he walked around in the buff.
Most important, he said that he wanted to see my reaction when I saw his
giant cock, and he was overjoyed to see the tent in my jeans.  Just like
that he told me he was gay and would prefer to have a gay room mate.  He
went on to say that he had had some childhood experiences with his little
friends, but he had never had real sex with a mature man.  He intended to
remedy all that in college.

"I told him that I was gay too, or at least I knew that to be a fact.  I
had up to then never had sex with any male, child or man, and I hoped to
remedy that in college also.  We laughed like hyenas.  I knew we were
already in love.  That very first night we fulfilled our fantasies.  It was
all we could do to tear ourselves apart and go to classes the next morning.
I swear, Art, neither of us ever slept with another guy from that day on."

When Russ stopped talking, Art started to blubber.  His shoulders heaved in
gigantic sobs, and he had trouble catching his breath.  Russ ran to him and
embraced him so that Art's head was resting on his chest.

"What's wrong, Baby?" Russ wanted to know.  Baby???

"I did a terrible thing and I've regretted it for ten years, but I can't
rectify it."

Russ ran his hand up and down Art's back and Art was comforted by the
sensation.  "Tell me what you did baby?  Let me help you."

Art had stopped sobbing and could talk a little.  Slowly he looked up at
Russ, and in a faltering voice he said.  "When my son, Tom, told me that he
was gay, I thought he chose to be that way because Carl, his partner, had
lured him into that life style.  Oh Russ, I turned my back on him.  I threw
him out of my life when he probably needed me the most.  And now in a twist
of fate, worthy of O'Henry, I find myself hopelessly in love with a gay
man.  I tell you this in utter confusion, not even knowing if it's possible
for me to perform a homosexual act or to even believe that two men can be
in love.  I always believed that gay men were in it simply for the sex.
Until now I never believed that two men could actually love one another."

"You love me?" Russ gasped and pulled Art tighter to him.  "I love you too
and I thought I could never love again.  Do you believe in fate my darling
man?  It's almost like Millie and Andy went away so we could be together
for the rest of our lives."  Art started to cry again and Russ continued.
"I want to make you a pledge, my love.  I promise you I'll never ask you to
do anything that disgusts you, or grosses you out, or that you simply don't
want me to do.  I only want to be with you and to be your companion in
whatever way you allow me."

Russ raised Art's face to be even with his.  "I have an uncontrollable urge
to kiss you," he said, "if you'll let me."  In answer, Art stood up and
faced Russ.  The two men embraced and pressed their bodies together so that
each could feel the other's erections.  When they did so they ground
themselves together as Art hungrily gave his first kiss to another man.
They kissed gently at first and then their lips parted as their tongues
caressed.

Russ led Art to his bedroom.  When they got inside, he removed his sweat
suit and helped Art remove his.  They gently stroked each other's cocks as
Russ lay Art gently on the bed. Art could not believe how good Russ's cock
felt in his hand.  "Let me do all the work," Russ said.  "Just follow my
lead.  Did you ever have oral sex with Millie?"  Art nodded negatively.  He
was too excited, or was he too scared, to talk?

"That's what I thought," Russ said.  "Lie on your back."  He was standing
at the side of the bed leaning over Art.  His tongue started to explore all
of Art's body from his lips, down to his toes.  When he nibbled on Art's
nipples, Art began to squeal like a piglet.  He tongued all around Art's
cock, his balls, and his inner thighs but never touched Art's throbbing
rod.  When he finished sucking on Art's toes, he told Art to roll over.
Then his tongue explored all up and down Art's back.  He kissed Art's
cheeks over and over, each time coming closer to Art's crack.  Eventually,
he parted Art's cheeks and his tongue began to slide up and down his sweet
opening.  Art was going crazy.  He began to dry hump the bed and it was all
he could do to keep from cumming.  Instinctively Russ knew that he wouldn't
ask Art to reciprocate in any way until he wanted to, so he turned Art on
his back again, leaned over him and took his tool as far down his throat as
he could.  Art's moans could be heard above the roaring wind beating
against the window.  As he slowly pulled his mouth up and let Art's cock
slip out of his mouth, he ran his tongue up and down the shaft.  He kissed
the head and sucked Art's flowing juices out of him.  When he pushed back
in all the way to the base he stopped and pumped the base of the shaft
gently with his lips.  All the while he held his fingers to Art's lips and
Art instinctively knew he was supposed to lick them.  When they were moist,
Russ found Art's crack with his middle finger and gently massaged it.  When
he felt it relax a bit, he gently inserted it a little. Art's body tensed
but he didn't push Russ's finger away.  Suddenly Russ's finger slipped in a
little and then as if Art's ass became a vacuum, it sucked Russ's finger
all the way in.  The sensations Art was feeling were beyond his wildest
dreams.  Russ sensed he was going to cum and stopped sucking.  Instead he
cupped Art's balls and started licking and sucking them.  Art's body was
convulsing and writhing in sheer ecstasy.  He started to scream, "I need to
cum. I need to cum."  Russ took Art's pulsating cock back in his mouth and
sucked as sensuously as he could.  He felt Art's balls withdraw into his
scrotum as he let out one wailing scream and came and came and came in
Russ's mouth.  Russ swallowed as much as he could, but saved some for Art.
He leaned over Art's face to kiss him, and let Art's cum drop into his
waiting mouth.  Their tongues lapped up the remaining cum as they both
basked in this ultimate moment of intimacy.

They lay side by side fondling each other's cocks and balls.  Russ was
almost afraid to ask, but Art was so silent he had to know.  "Are you happy
darling?" he asked Art.  Art turned to Russ.  "I've never been happier."

"Do you think you would ever want to do that to me?" he asked fearing the
answer.

"Yes, that and lots more.  You'd better be a good teacher so I can give you
as much pleasure as you give me."

"Teaching you is going to be so much fun.  You know, it would be just fine
with me, if this snowstorm never ended."  They fell into a deep and
peaceful sleep for the first time in years.

Art woke up the next morning wondering where he was.  When he regained his
senses he smiled in deep contentment.  He was alone in bed so he jumped out
to look for Russ.  He didn't have to look far.  Russ was standing in the
bedroom doorway totally naked.  He was grinning broadly at Art and he
sported a good size morning woodie.  He was holding a piece of paper in his
hand.  He ran over to Art and embraced him in a bone crushing bear hug.
They kissed, totally ignoring morning breath.  Then he showed Art the piece
of paper.  "Here's Tom's address and telephone number," he said.  "He lives
in Los Angeles with a Carl Stanton."

"My God!" Art Gasped.  "How???"

"I Googled him," Russ proudly announced.  Art did not have a clue what he
was talking about so Russ brought Art a little bit more into the
twenty-first century.

"I'm going to have to break down and get one of those new fangled things,"
Art quipped, but Russ said seriously, "No need; you can use mine."  More
hugs and kisses.

"I'd suggest you wait until tomorrow to call him.  It's Friday and he's apt
to be at work."  Art nodded in agreement.  "By the way, the snow hasn't let
up at all.  I checked the weather report and it's not expected to stop
until the wee hours of tomorrow morning."  Art glanced out the window.  It
was still a total white out.

"I guess we're stuck with each other," Art said.  Russ led Art into the
bathroom.  He gave him a new toothbrush and they brushed side by side,
bumping their hips together playfully.

"Wanna shower with me?" Russ asked with a leer.

"Uh huh."

Russ adjusted the temperature in his stall shower and they stepped inside.
Each one soaped the other.  Art followed Russ's lead and inserted his soapy
fingers into places that would have appalled and disgusted him yesterday.
But today he was eager to accept and give the pleasure it generated.  Then
he shocked Russ.  He fell to his knees and took Russ's very hard tool into
his mouth.  He sucked on it as Russ had sucked on him the previous evening.
Last night the lovers had fallen asleep with only Art having been
satisfied.  Russ had planned it that way so now he was so horny, he
couldn't control himself.  He began to pump Art's face wildly even though
he knew he should be gentler.  Art loved the taste of Russ' prick.  He
couldn't believe the sensations running through his body, and when Russ
shot his load instants later into his mouth, he gulped down as much of the
sweet juice as he could and then stood up and shared the rest with Russ.
They kissed wildly, each yelling, "I love you" to the other, and both
crying tears of joy.

"Please fuck me," Russ begged Art.  For one split second, Art experienced a
moment of reticence.  Then he looked at Russ' soft brown eyes and knew it
was something he wanted to do.  He nodded at Russ, who smiled and turned
toward the shower wall.  He put his hands on the wall and bent his still
firm ass toward Art.  He told Art to stretch him by inserting a soapy
finger into his love canal. That was easily done, and Art was instructed to
insert another.  That was no problem either.  "I guess I'm still stretched
after all this time," Russ said in wonderment.  "Now soap up your cock and
place it at my opening." Art happily obliged.  Russ reached around and
encircled Art's cock with his hand and guided it slowly in.  There was a
little resistance at first, but once the head was in, the rest glided right
down to where Russ could feel Art's pubes.  It tickled and he started to
giggle.

"What's wrong?" Art sounded concerned.

"Nothing, but we are going to have to trim our pubes," Russ answered still
laughing.  "Now," he said, "Just pump in and out just as if you were
fucking a woman," Russ instructed.  Art barely heard him.  He was off
somewhere in another world.  Millie had never been this tight, especially
after Tom was born.  She would try to tighten around him but he could
barely feel the friction.  As a result they didn't have sex too often since
neither really enjoyed it that much.  Art found more pleasure in a hand
job.  Some sixth sense caused Russ to keep contracting his loving abyss
especially when Art's cock rubbed against his prostate.  To his great joy
and surprise, Russ found himself about to shoot a second time.  At his age
it was an unexpected pleasure.  He shot a good size load against the shower
wall.  As he did so he contracted even more around Art's cock and Art came
with one long scream of pleasure.  He stayed inside of Russ as long as he
could but nature finally forced him out.  He whispered in Russ's ear, "When
will you do that to me?"  Russ was completely spent.  All he could say was,
"Soon, babe, soon."

They spent the day eating what canned food Russ could find in the house,
listening to music, and frolicking in bed.  Eventually Russ initiated Art
into the joys of anal sex.  Art wouldn't admit how much it hurt at first,
but Russ had told him to expect this so he said nothing.  Eventually he
relaxed and began to enjoy the sensation.  When his prostate was touched he
went wild.  "No wonder gay guys love this so much," he whispered, and Russ
was pleased.  Before they even decided to retire for the day, whatever
fears, reticence or prejudices Art had previously had about male sex, they
were all shattered.  He loved how he felt, but especially he loved Russ,
and the feeling was mutual.  At one point they wondered how they would
explain this to Father Alfred and why they were dropping out of the group.
They decided to tell him the whole and honest truth.

The next morning the snow had indeed stopped, but it was still windy and
overcast.  There was no sunlight to shine on the newly fallen snow. The
streets were still unplowed and the wind blew the snow in to formidable
drifts.  It was obviously going to be another snowbound day.  The new
lovers couldn't care one iota.

Art waited until 11 AM to call Tom.  It would then be 9 AM in LA.  He
fumbled so badly punching in the numbers that he had to start over several
times.  Finally, Russ took the phone and said, "Let me get him on the phone
and speak to him for a minute, I'll pave the way and then you two can
talk."

The phone rang in Los Angeles and after the third ring, a strong male voice
said, "Good morning, whoever you are."  Russ had to smile.

"Good morning to you.  Is this Tom or Carl? ...Carl, I'm glad it's you.  My
name is Russell Taylor.  I'm a very dear and close friend of Tom's dad."
He said it in such a way that he hoped that Carl, being gay, would get his
innuendo.  He continued, "Tom's dad, Arthur, would like very much to speak
to Tom and tell him how much of a fool he's been and ask for forgiveness.
Could you kind of pave the way for them as I'm trying to do?"

There was silence on the phone for a moment and then Carl let out a scream
that even Art could hear.  "Russell," he said.  "We ran out of orange juice
and Tom just went out to get a few things at the super market.  Please give
me your number and I'll have him call right back.  You have no idea what
this is going to mean to him.  We have a wonderful life together, but he's
always lamenting the fact that his parents can't see how happy he is, how
happy we are."  He made Russ repeat the number three times to make sure he
got it right.

Art sat by the phone ringing his hands.  "What if he doesn't call?" he
worried.

"He'll call.  You heard what Carl said.  He's been dreaming of this moment
for a long time."  He pulled a chair up to Art's and held him tightly.
About ten minutes later the phone rang.  Art fumbled with the hand set but
managed to get it to his ear.

"Hello," he croaked so that he could hardly be heard.  But he started to
sob and those sobs could be heard loud and clear at the other end.

"Dad, dad, please don't cry.  Talk to me.  I need so much to hear your
voice," Tom urged.

"Tommy, Tommy, boy.  I am so sorry.  Can you forgive an old fool?  I've
regretted every minute since I lashed out at you and I was too stubborn to
call you back."  He kept repeating, "Please forgive me."

"Of course, I forgive you.  I could never hate you.  I just want to see you
and mom so bad.  Please come out here for a visit soon."

"Tommy boy.  I hate to tell you this but mom passed away almost three
months ago.  I didn't know how to reach you, but my friend, Russ, Googled
you in seconds.  I swear son, I didn't even know what that meant.  I need
you to forgive me for not letting you know."

Tom was crying softly and Art could hear Carl saying, "Don't cry, baby, I'm
here for you."  Art wanted to stick a knife in his heart.  How could he
ever have dared to try to deny Tom's love for this so very kind soul?

He heard Tom say, "Dad I forgive you for everything.  I love you to death.
Just knowing that you're all right with me and Carl and our lifestyle,
well, that mean's the world to me." "And me," he heard Carl yell in the
background. "I want you to come for a visit, please.  I'll pay for
everything.  Just come."

"I can't wait, Art said, "but I can pay my own way. Can I bring my friend
Russ?  Without him, I never would have found you."

"Absolutely, Dad.  We've got a guest room and a day bed in the den so
there's plenty of room for all of us."

Art took a deep breath.  His moment of truth was about to occur.  He looked
at Russ proudly and smiled at him.  Then he said to Tom, "Tom, about
sleeping arrangements," He hesitated for a second. "One bedroom will be
fine for Russ and me."

There was utter silence on the other end, and Art began to tremble until he
heard Tom roaring with laughter.  "Why you dirty, horny old man," he
laughed and laughed.  Then seriously he asked, "Are you happy, Dad?"

"Yes, very much so.  I think Russ makes me as happy as Carl makes you."

"Then you have our blessing.  Could I speak to Russ for a minute, Dad?  We
want to thank him for what he's done."

Art handed Russ the phone. "Tom and Carl want to speak to you."

"Hi," Russ said, a little nervous for the first time...  "There's no need
to thank me...Yes, we'll be out as soon as we can...Call anytime...We love
you too...Do you want to speak to your dad again?"

He handed the phone to Art.  "Yes, I'll call again soon...We'll let you
know when we are coming as soon as we book the flight...Yes we'll do it
today...We love you too, son.  Goodbye for now."

Art fell sobbing into Russ's waiting arms.  "God sent you to me.  I'll
never doubt him again.  I'm so happy on so many different levels, my heart
is going to explode," he joyfully pronounced to Russ.

"I'm just as happy as you are, baby.  I always wanted a son.  I'm going to
spoil him silly."

They laughed until they cried.  When they both calmed down, they spent hour
after hour demonstrating how much they loved each other.  Even though they
could have left sooner, they spent two more days in the apartment.


The End...