Date: Sat, 13 Dec 2003 14:49:36 -0800 (PST) From: Bob Archman Subject: 'Twas the Night Before Christmas 1 'Twas the Night Before Christmas Part 1 By Bald Hairy Man Email, bldhrymn@excite.com or bldhrymn@aol.com This is an adult story for adults. It is not intended for minors, nor for persons who are offended by alternate life styles. If you don't like this sort of thing DON"T READ it. Parrishtown is one of those strange places which appear only on maps, but no longer physically exist. Around 1810 Parrishtown was a small but thriving town, by the 1820s it had almost 1,000 inhabitants. The 1860s weren't very good, and by 1900 the town had disappeared. In the 1920s a New York State highway department put it on a map, more to fill in an empty spot in the map, than for any other reason. Once it was there, it stayed. Parrishtown consisted of my parents' house and their garage. Dad decided to retire there in the later part of 1970 because he got the house for a good price. The house is a jewel of early 19th century North Country architecture, simple, handsome and well built. He and my mom loved the place and restored it to its original state. I was in college when they bought the house, so I never lived in it, but it was good for them. Dad, Robert Ashton, was a very successful accountant who had no interest in anything other than numbers. When he retired he was lost until he found the house. It gave him and my mother a hobby. They came to love the place and Dad eventually published a small book on the architecture of the region. They both made it to the late 1990s before bad health struck. They went to a home. Mom died eight years ago and Dad died earlier this year. I'm Robert Ashton, Jr. I had just retired after working in South America and the Far East for most of my life. I had a good salary, but since I was a workaholic, all of my income was either in the bank, or well invested. At 56 I was shocked to realize I was a wealthy man. Since I was away, all of the care of my parents was done by my sister. She didn't like the house, so she inherited our parents' stocks and cash, which was considerable; I got the house. That only seemed fair to me. I had no idea what to do with myself after I retired, so I went to Parrishtown to close up the place and get it ready for sale. Fortunately for me, my parents had a handyman named Ralph who took care of the house while they were in the home. He lived above the garage. When I got to the house in late December, I discovered the house was in near perfect condition. Ralph was retired and had nothing to do but fix things. Anyone who owns an old house knows there is always a lot to do and Ralph did it all. Parrishtown was north of Syracuse and east of Watertown, a few miles off of I 81. Anyone familiar with New York State knows that pretty well defines the middle of nowhere and I mean nowhere. I-81 in this area crosses a flat, featureless plain. It is boring and uninteresting, unless it is snowing. When it's snowing, 81 becomes a dangerous and treacherous road. There are no trees or hills to slow winds and drifts can mount up with remarkable speed. It gets closed with great regularity. On the 23rd of December the area was enveloped in a major storm. The highways had been closed. That evening, the snow was heavy and the wind was rising when I heard a knocking at my door. I opened it and found a parka enshrouded face looking at me. He had blue eyes and a red beard, I couldn't see much else. "I'm sorry, I'm looking for Parrishtown? I seem to have lost my way," he said. "You've found it," I said. "This is all there is." "You're kidding! I'm looking for a motel," he said. "The nearest motel is fifteen miles away in Watertown," I said, then I told him how to get there. He was in a white van. He said he was bad about directions, so I went out to the car and gave the instructions to one of his passengers. The van had Virginia plates and I guessed they weren't familiar with driving in the snow. As they drove off a huge gust of wind came up and blew the van into a ditch and turned it on its side. I raced over and got everyone out of the van. No one was hurt, but it wasn't possible to guess if the van was damaged. There were four men in the van and they got some things out of the back and then trooped to my house. I called the State Police, but they said to call back after Christmas. It was a huge storm and they weren't responding to anything without injuries. I called the nearest local service station and was told the same thing. "If you're not bleeding, we're not coming," I was told. They also told me, drifts had closed most of the roads and it was too dangerous to get on the road for any reason short of a life or death situation. I gave the bad news to the men in the van. They would be spending Christmas with me. There was no way to get out. There was a flurry of cell phone calls as they called friends and family. The men were out of their parkas and coats and looked like human beings. Actually, two of them looked like human beings; two were a bit marginal. Chuck, the driver was a slim, bald, bearded man in a flannel shirt and jeans. The man who was riding shotgun, Lou, was a banker and looked the part. Freddy was a florist and was what could only be called a flaming faggot. He was diminutive, lisped, swished and affected Hawaiian shirts as well as lots of jewelry. The fourth member of the group, Bruiser, was clad in leather. He was pierced and his face snarled. I wasn't looking forward to this Christmas at all. The odd combination of men was soon explained. They had been to a wedding of two of their friends in Toronto. The Groom and Groom had apparently thought a winter wedding in Canada would hit the spot, apparently oblivious to the problems of travel in the winter. I was short of food, but that wasn't a problem. The van was filled with food from the wedding and Freddy fetched it and contributed it to the pot. The men weren't happy about the situation but most dealt with it. Bruiser was the only one who was surly and unhappy. That changed when Ralph appeared. Ralph is a 60 year old bear like man, with a big white beard. He brought wood for the fireplace and said he was going to chop up more. He wanted some extra in case we lost electricity. He hadn't seen the van in the ditch, but didn't seem surprised we had visitors. "You'd be surprised how many travelers have spent some time here," he said. "People get off the highway and expect to find some sort of a town here. Your Dad tried to get them to take down the sign, but had no luck. Changing the Highway Department must take an act of God." As he prepared to go out into the storm again, Bruiser offered to help and the two men left. Chuck and Freddy, the florist, liked the house and knew a lot about antiques. When I say they knew a lot, I mean they had encyclopedic knowledge and were really helpful to me. I had been planning to have an auction, but they knew the value of most of the stuff and knew where I could get the best price for it. I had been thinking several things were worth hundreds of dollars. I was off by a factor of ten; Several, rather simple looking pieces of furniture they said were museum quality and might easily be worth thousands. I had to admit this information made me warm considerably to the men, especially Freddy. It was getting late, so I prepared dinner. I am not much of a cook, but both Lou and Freddy were. Somehow, when we all sat down for dinner, it was a gourmet style meal. It wasn't exactly fancy, but it was the best meal I had eaten in years. They also had a good supply of wine in the van and that eased the social situation considerably. The conversation was easy and pleasant. The men had a good sense of humor and were good company. Ralph joined us for dinner and told us of all his "stranded in the storm" stories. There had been many visitors to the house through the years including the Governor and some high ranking officials, a group of mafiosi and a high school hockey team. I had been unaware of all of this; Dad had never mentioned it in his letters. I had been working abroad for twenty years. I was unattached. My specialty was resolving problems in complex construction projects, big projects like hydroelectric dams and oil pipelines. If I was on a job there was a big problem. I'm the kind of guy who can spend 18 hours a day working on it. It may sound boring, but I like the challenge of arriving at solution for completely screwed up project and leaving three or four years later with the project complete and functioning. I'm 6'-1" and 220 pounds of firm, but not very stylish flesh. My social life has been nonexistent and my sex life was limited. I lived and worked in pretty much an all male world. That was fine with me. I had been briefly married in my later 20s, but that hadn't been a success. I had a trip or two to the wild side, but I wasn't attracted to prostitutes at all and I didn't find boys or effeminate men interesting either. My only attachment was to a Saudi engineer I worked with in the Mid-East. Ahmed was handsome, fun and good in bed. About the time the project was completed, his father died and he had to return home to help his family. He was the only male in the family and his mother and sisters were lost without a man to protect them. He married and we never got together again. That episode was as close to a hot and heavy relationship I had ever experienced. Lou and Chuck cleaned up the dishes as the conversation flowed. I mentioned my parent's Christmas decorations were in the attic. I took Freddy up there to look them over. He wanted to decorate and I had enough to drink to say fine. We brought them downstairs and Ralph said he had a Christmas tree. He had a job selling trees and had been given one, that he hadn't had time to put up. He and Bruiser brought it in. "It's not much of a tree." I said when I saw it. The tree was misshapen and lopsided. "Honey, I'm a fucking florist!" Freddy said. "Believe me, I can work magic on that pathetic escapee from a forest. Leave it to me." For the next hour we worked at getting the thing to stand up. When I said it was lopsided, I didn't not exaggerate. It turned into a "Three Stooges Put up a Christmas Tree" routine. The wine made it into a fun experience. It was late by the time the tree was up, so we decided to decorate it the next morning. The house had three bedrooms, a master bedroom with a big bath and two smaller rooms. Each hand a full bed except for the queen sized four poster in the master bedroom. I took one of the smaller bedrooms and let then men fight over the others. I soon realized the men were friends, but not lovers or playmates. I let them figure out the sleeping arrangements. All was well until I heard a knock at the door. Ralph answered it and found two UPS men shivering in the cold. One, Guy, was the man who regularly served the area. He delivered things to Ralph regularly. The other was a new guy on the route, Sean. They had been caught getting back from deliveries in Alexandria Bay. It had been a five hour drive to cover the 35 miles. They were almost out of gas. Five men in three beds wasn't much of a problem, seven was more complicated. Ralph offered to take one of the men to his room above the garage. Bruiser jumped at the opportunity. He seemed to have hit it off with Ralph. I got Chuck to share the master bedroom with me; the UPS men took a room and Lou and Freddy had the remaining room. There had been four bedrooms originally, but Dad and Mom took one and made it into a master bath and dressing room. They restored their bath with a claw footed tub and period fixtures, but had a walk in shower in what looked like a closet. This was Dad's room and he designed it with a steam machine. He had a back problem and the machine helped. I took a shower. Ralph told me to always run the hot water before going to bed on cold nights. It heated up the pipes and helped protect them from freezing. Chuck was brushing his teeth when I got out. He was wearing only jockey shorts. He was bald and bearded; while every hair was in place on his head, the same couldn't be said his body. He had a thick coat of red hair from a shaved line on his neck to his toes. He saw me in the mirror. "Aren't you the hairy one," he said. "Looks to me you are a touch furry yourself," I replied. I have a breastplate of hair which connects to my pubic hair in a treasure trail. My chest hair covers my shoulders too, but I was smooth compared to Chuck. "It came from my Mom's brothers; they both look like chimpanzees," he said. I finished drying off and went to bed. I was tired and the second my head touched the pillow, I was asleep. I woke at 6:00, turned over and rolled onto Chuck, who I had forgotten was in bed with me. "Sorry, I forgot you were there," I said. He mumbled, "No problem." He didn't seem to actually wake up. I went to the bathroom and then returned to bed. When I woke the next time, Chuck was stroking my chest hair with his hand. It felt good, so I just stayed still. He knew I was awake, so he snuggled closer. His body hair was in contact with mine and it felt good. I think I dozed off again. When I woke the next time, he was closer, but only his body hair touched, except for a tube resting on my ass crack. I have furry cheeks and my Saudi friend liked rubbing his cock on them. Chuck wasn't rubbing, just resting. I moved a little. Chuck jumped back. "Sorry, got carried away," he said. "I meant no harm." "No problem, it felt good," I said. "You don't need to stop." He returned his hand, gently stoking my chest hair again. I scooted back a bit and felt his body and his cock. He rubbed it in my fur-covered crack. His hand was following the treasure trail when he encountered my cock earlier than he expected. I was the hardest I had been in years. "Damn," he said, "you may have guessed I get turned on by hairy men." Chuck stroked my cock. "Is this as thick as it feels?" I turned over onto my back. "It's a mouthful, I've been told," I said. "Let me be the judge of that," Chuck said as he rotated in the bed and took my cock in his mouth. I am thick, but he got it all in his mouth without effort. His cock was in easy reach of my mouth, so I figured, what the hell and swallowed him. Ahmed and I 69ed many times, although usually he ended up impaled on my cock squirming in ecstasy. I had missed him, just how much I realized as Chuck's cock slipped down my throat. Chuck, like Ahmed was a perfect fit. I licked and sucked for a while and soon got Chuck's juices flowing. "You're ripe. Ready to go for the gold?" he asked. I deep-throated his cock and he did the same for me. His finger touched my ass hole. My balls all but exploded. That didn't bother Chuck at all. I hadn't had an orgasm like that in years. Unfortunately, after I shoot I loose all interest in sex for ten to twenty minutes. I released Chuck's cock and lay back, exhausted. "Let me help you out there,"a voice said. It was Guy, our regular UPS man. I saw the bedroom door had been cracked and he apparently was watching and decided to join in. He stripped off his brown uniform and began sucking Chuck where I had left off. I was too tired to pay much attention but I knew Guy wasn't new to cock sucking. He both got Chuck off and hit it off with the red-haired man. Guy was heavily tanned and looked like a runner. His chest was toned and muscular, dusted with bleached blond hair. He also had a long thin cock which still needed attention after he got Chuck off. By that time my sexual urges had came back and I licked it when it came within reach. Guy moved closer to me so I could suck him properly. "I can't believe this," Guy murmured. "I come by for one of Ralph's special blow jobs and I hit the mother load! This is going to be great!"