A Year In The Life
Snowplow Pt. 1
By Bix Meister
This is a story featuring gay men, and gay sex, intended for Adults, not Minors. It is fiction, and as such is not based on any actual people or events. It is a fantasy intended purely as a catalyst for pleasure. No attempts have been made to portray safe sex, but the author encourages you to practice it.
Early November 1999
I really hadn't expected this, I have been through my share of Winter storms, and I thought I could outsmart the weather. In fact I was certain this wouldn't be a true Winter storm. After moving back to the north country, the Winters had been milder than I remembered when I lived in this region. Huge storms would be predicted, and would move south of us. Two out of three years since I moved back we experienced a not-so-White Christmas, something I had never had when I lived here before. However here I was at work, trying to hammer out the last detail of a project I was working on, and I was oblivious to the hammering we were getting outside.
Let me backtrack for a minute. My name is Kyle Hansen I was 42 years old, and after 20 years of following my career around from city to city, I found myself downsized. I had done well investing my earnings, so I was somewhat comfortable. I took that Summer off, closed down my condo, and pointed my car northward. The lakes of Minnesota had their usual charm and I traveled visiting friends and relatives. By Summer's end I was sure of my future, and reenergized to start my own graphics business. I settled on living in Duluth, thinking that the mix of city life, and nature would work for me. Plus it was near enough to family, without being too close, providing me the room to breathe.
So here I am at work on a Friday afternoon. My staff had left earlier, more sense than me obviously. I was finally to a point where I could leave the project, saved my work, and looked outside. Damn, there was at least a foot of the white stuff out there and it was still coming down. I quickly sent out an email to my team, closed down the computer and office and got into my car. A normal drive home down the hill would take me about 15-20 minutes, but I was sure it would take double in this snow. The last few years had softened me when it came to driving in blizzard conditions, but suddenly my previous experiences came back to me. It soon became evident that slow and steady was the best way to get home. Some asshole in a SUV went barreling by me, causing a momentary white-out. I followed in their ruts, giving them some headway. It was less than a mile later that I saw headlights in the ditch, aimed towards me. From the tracks I knew it was the guy from before. I kept the mantra, slow and steady. I knew my vehicle, and it's limitations, and I was driving within them.
About an hour into my fifteen minute commute, I finally was on the home stretch. My house was about a half a mile into a country road on the south western edge of town. There were two houses on our road, a 1970's chalet type house, and my turn of the century farmhouse. The way the snow was moving around I knew it was Lake Effect snow, and by this time there had to be 20 inches on the ground. Our road had no tracks on it, and I was snow plowing instead of driving. I came around the bend by the `70's chalet, and had no control as my car literally parked itself off to the side of the road , just a few feet short of the driveway. There was a newer Dodge Ram parked in the driveway, covered in a blanket of snow. In case I forgot to mention it, I had scoffed at the weather report earlier, and was dressed more for a fall day, than winter blizzard. I got out in my jeans, flannel shirt, and shoes and tried to assess my chances of getting back on the road. Snow was falling fast, virtually obliterating the usefulness of my headlights. After clearing off what I could, I got back into my car and started rocking the car back and forth between forward and reverse, and only entrenched myself further.
Remembering that I had left my shovel in the trunk, I girded myself for the falling cold, and snow, and tried to dig a pathway to back up. I didn't want to waste anymore gas, so I turned my car off and started shoveling. I did this for about five minutes, determined to make it home. Out of nowhere I was startled by a hand on my shoulder. The howling of the wind and the sound of the wet snow as I tried to shovel, masked the footsteps of the homeowner of that Chalet. He was the smart one, wrapped up in a parka with fur trim, chopper mittens and Sorel boots. He caught me off guard and said "I don't think you are going anywhere further tonight, let's go inside" Once inside I was suddenly aware of how cold and wet I was. I was standing there, teeth chattering like in the cartoons, and Mr. Parka took me over by the fireplace in the living room and said "Let's get you warm". I was quick to plop down on a leather chair by the fireplace and removed my soaked shoes. Still in a parka, he was busying himself in the kitchen and yelled "What do you prefer, hot chocolate or coffee?"
Teeth still chattering, I replied "c-c-c-cof-ffeee." The warmth from the fireplace helped my feet and hands warm up but my jeans were soaked, as well as the sleeves of my flannel shirt. Mr. Parka returned with the coffee, hot and strong. While I was shivering away, he had removed the parka and was down to a grey sweatshirt, jeans and his boots.
Without the parka, he suddenly looked a bit more imposing. I hadn't caught his shaved head before, and only got a glimpse of his beard. He said "looks like I will need to find something to help you with your wet clothes" as he left the living room, down the stairs to the back of the house. I finally felt comfortable enough to look around at the house of my rescuer. It looked like a `70's time capsule, something that might have been up to date, maybe even chic back then. The few nods to the present day were a new TV, and a few appliances in the kitchen. I looked for pictures, something to tell me a bit more about the guy who brought me in out of the cold, but I found nothing. I was intrigued by this house, and the man who owned it and more than a bit embarrassed that I had lived so close to him, and this was the first time we met.
He returned in a few minutes with a fluffy robe, some sweatpants and said "get out of that wet stuff, this should help you," "By the way, I have the sure-fire way to warm those bones, I just stoked up the sauna down in the rec. room." "By the way my name is Pete Ravinka, looks like we'll be bunking together for the next 24 at least, might as well get acquainted" He offered his handshake, the strong grip felt comforting, and also electrifying for some reason. I also had a feeling I knew him from somewhere. He had the look of some of the Eastern European immigrants who had mined the Iron Range of Northern Minnesota. The name certainly fit, and as I was becoming more aware of him, his body fit the mold. I suddenly noticed his broad shoulders which the parka had hidden. Fur curled out of the collar of his sweatshirt and out of his sleeves onto his broad hands and thick fingers. He was the archetype of masculinity from my childhood. I was mainly of Scandinavian stock, a late bloomer, but remember the sports teams we would play from "The Range" Their players would sport a thick five o'clock shadow at fifteen and their supporters looked like brutes.
As I shook his hand I started to introduce myself "My name is ---"
He said "no need for introduction, you're Kyle Hansen, the fella that lives down the road, I recognized your car. When you live out here in the sticks it is important to know who your neighbors are, even if they haven't made and attempt to be neighborly yet"
His smirk was evident, and so was the wink so I came back with "the road goes both ways Pete"
"Point taken" he replied "welcome to my little slice of heaven such as it is. It ain't much but at least it will keep you warm and dry, `cept in the sauna of course. Speaking of which, it will take a few more minutes for it to warm up, why don't you head down to the rec.-room and wait while I take care of some things up here." I took a moment to pull out my cell phone, and called my assistant Jean with the last bit of power my phone had. I didn't even plan for that, an almost dead phone, and my power cord at home. I relayed that I would be unreachable for a bit, but I was safe, and asked her to send off an email to the usual suspects who would want to know my whereabouts.
As Pete left I took off my remaining clothes and pulled on the sweats and robe. I draped my clothes on the back of the chair in front of the fireplace, hoping that would help them dry. I followed his instructions, headed downstairs and found myself in a most unique rec.-room. Off to the left I saw the door to the sauna, a large tiled shower, and a small gym type room with a weight set, and floor covered in blue mats. Off to the right was your typical 70's basement lounge with furniture that hadn't been updated since. It looked out onto a backyard covered in snow, still coming down heavily. I turned to the right of another fireplace and saw a whole wall of photographs, most black and white, but some faded color ones. It was then that I realized who Pete was, he was the local Pro Wrestler "Ivan The Mad Russian" Half of the pictures were of Ivan the Mad Russian in his famous pose, hunched forward, arms flexed in a muscleman pose, and right eyebrow arched, mouth snarling. A few pictures were Ivan The Mad Russian with local sportscasters, Ivan the Mad Russian with Barry "The Bod" Brunswick, Another was Ivan face to face with "The Roamin, Roman, Giorgio Galenti, and right in the center, a newer picture of Ivan the Mad Russian with former wrestler and Minnesota Governor Jesse "The Body Ventura..
Looking at those pictures of Ivan brought me back to my teenage years and my dick started tenting up the front of my sweats. You see Ivan was my first crush. I made fun of my friends who liked wrestling until I was over at one friends house watching one weekend. He was a fan, and had wrestling on so I watched mainly for amusement. Then Ivan appeared, all six feet, 210 pounds of muscle, shoulders, beard and fur contained in red Hammer and Sickle wrestling trunks. He posed, growled and strutted on stage and at that moment I was convinced it was just for me. I was young, naïve, uncertain, but somewhat sure I was gay, but that single moment removed all doubt. Like I have said, I was a late bloomer but that image of Ivan strutting on the screen caused a shot of adrenaline and my dick grew like I never experienced before. I grabbed a crocheted throw pillow from my friends couch to hide my hard on. I quietly squirmed on the sofa watching the match. I made it through the bout with only a slight discharge in my shorts, and then finally was able leave my friends house without showing hard. Ivan lost, but they announced a grudge match for next Saturdays broadcast. I was hooked, so much so that when I had a chance to go shopping in Grand Rapids, I begged to stay home while the rest of the family went shopping.
On Saturday I found myself home alone, ready for the match. The first two bouts meant nothing to me. This was second rate wrestling in a third tier market so they were probably longshoremen or laborers making extra money to make ends meet. In our small market there were only a handful who could make their living off of Pro Wrestling, and they did the Main event each week. Finally the grudge match between Barry the Bod, and Ivan The Mad Russian was introduced. Barry the Bod was supposed to be heart throb. He was the epitome of 70's macho, but for some reason did nothing to me. Ivan came out and I was hard instantly. I started fondling myself while watching the bout. Ivan prowled and growled, Barry primped and posed.
They started some well rehearsed moves, throwing each other down. The grainy signal captured the rug that fanned up from Ivan's trunks, over his shoulders and down the blades of his broad back. I swear I could see hair curling out of the back of his trunks, trunks that contained my new favorite thing, Ivan`s ass, but the blurry camera work obscured it. I approached our console TV to get a better view, pulled my dick out and started to pound away. Ivan and Barry wrestled through the first two rounds evenly, while I jerked my dick. The third round found Ivan flipping Barry onto his back. Ivan caught Barry in his signature move, the Hammerin' Headlock. The cameraman focused in on a close up of Ivan's trunks as he captured Barry in his crotch. My fifteen year old eyes swore they saw a meaty dick and balls right at Barry's chin, and my fifteen year old dick responded by coating the television with four pumps of my young cum. The rest landed on my hand, which I promptly brought to my mouth. Although I had jerked off many times before, something told me I needed to finally taste it. Instantly I was hooked on cum, well cum and ass. I slipped my cock back into my pants, zipped up, and cleaned the TV screen to remove the evidence.
This flood of horny memories was brought to an abrupt halt when two meaty hands grasped my shoulders. "I see you found my Wall of Shame" Pete said.
I quickly adjusted the head of my dick into the waistband of the sweats and turned around and said "So you're Ivan The Mad Russian".
"Guilty" he said and assumed the pose. He then laughed and said "I used to be. I owe this spread to that name, but since then I have been Pete the Electrician, and more recently "Pete the Retiree"" I looked him over, he had a towel wrapped around his waist, and nothing else. I did the math in my head, and figured he was in his late 50's to my early 40's. The decades added some padding to his mid section, and grey to his beard and fur. The only thing I saw diminished was the hair on his head, which he shaved bald. If memories gave me a hard on, his presence only made it pulse harder. He padded over to a linen closet allowing me to look at his ass, "that ass" There he grabbed a towel, threw it at me and said "here, this is the dress code for the sauna, towel or nothing"
I wrapped the towel around my waist, tucking my hard on once again, and dropped the sweats on the plaid sectional. Before I took off the robe I checked to see if my dick was too obvious in the towel. Luckily the tightness of the tuck, and draping hid my erection, no matter how strong it was. From a scrawny 15 year old late bloomer, I had matured somewhere along the way. My carpeting was not as dense as Pete's, and I was nowhere near as muscular, but at 6'2", 230 pounds sporting seven thick inches I held my own. But being with Ivan brought that young kid out in me.
Pete unwrapped his towel, threw it over his shoulder and motioned for me to follow him into the sauna. My dick would follow that ass anywhere, but I was almost afraid to join him in the sauna. We got in there, he nodded for me to sit on one of the upper wooden tiers and ladled some water onto the stone. The view of "that ass" again shot another bit of life into my cock. I readjusted tightened the towel, and hoped Pete wouldn't notice. He bounded up the steps, his heavy uncut cock and balls bouncing from side to side. We sat side by side, feeling the warmth and Pete looked at me out of the corner of his eye and said "it's better than being stuck out in the cold isn't it?"
I said "thanks again for coming to my rescue, I am not sure what I would have done".
"Just being neighborly, neighbor" Pete winked at me. Damn that wink, another shot of energy went right to my dick causing it to move a bit, tenting the towel off to the left. Whether he saw it or not, Pete made no mention, however after a few seconds of silence Pete said "You know the sauna is more comfortable without the towel."
The silence hung in the air, punctuated by a sharp swallow. Pete noticed "Cat's got your tongue? Or are you ashamed of what that towel is hiding?"
With that he pulled the towel where I had tucked it, and my dick sprung up, all seven inches of it, no make that seven and a half thick inches of it. I was amazed at the power he had over my dick, fleshing it out like it never had been before. "Nothing to be ashamed of there" Looks like you have a case of hero worship, a crush on Pete, or is it Ivan?" he chuckled arching his eyebrow in that signature way. Boy he had figured me out, and quickly, and just as quickly he deflated my cock, leaving a trail of slime on my left thigh.
Almost as quickly we both figured out that we crossed a line. My infatuation with him, and his good hearted put down of me sapped the energy from the room. The stone cold silence in the room counterbalanced the heat generated by the sauna stove. I developed a certain tunnel vision which blocked out the nearness of this hunk of masculinity. The dry heat had long since eliminated the last of chill from my bones and was now coating us in a sheen of sweat. Pete got up to ladle another round of water onto the stones of the sauna. I lost my tunnel vision to watch him perform this task as if it were a spiritual rite. I have often thought that a great ass was a combination of great butt muscles in relationship to broad meaty shoulders. Watching Pete perform this rite made me realize that his ass "that ass" was writing a doctoral thesis on my ass theory. His shoulders flexed and his cheeks undulated doing this simple task. The shift of weight from one leg to the other created the tension found in sculptural masterpieces. My dick responded the only way it knew how, reaching launch stage in seconds. He turned around, saw my reaction, smirked, winked and then whispered "nothing to be ashamed of"
Somehow the shame was still there, and my tunnel vision came back. At least we broke the ice, the cards were on the table, and half a dozen other clichés were left unspoken, but we started to communicate again. My dick was there, we didn't talk about it, but we did talk about his career. He shared how he was able to buy this house in the 70's because the builder was a bit star struck and made him a deal to help promote his business. He told me about his fellow wrestlers, who he got along with, (Barry, Giorgio, and a few others) and who he didn't ( The Cruncher, mainly) I asked him about The Cruncher and he said "It was the seventies, I had a new state of the art house, and a beautiful wife, but I lost her because of Cruncher and a key party" I had heard about key parties, I had even heard they happened in my small town. There would be an adult house party where all of the men's keys were thrown in a bowl, and the women would head off with whoever owned the keys they drew from the bowl. I asked Pete how that happened, and he said "I hosted the party, proud of my house and my wife, sure I was the cock of the walk, and yet she left me for The Cruncher" I still can't believe that, I know Cruncher had a bigger career, but he sure couldn't measure up to me in the dick department."
I smiled and said "I am sure you have nothing to be ashamed of, but I've seen bigger"
Again the air in the sauna was still. My cock would flex, on its own accord, but I had turned on the tunnel vision again. The sheen of clean sweat covered my body and what I allowed myself to see of Pete's thigh. We were silent for a few more minutes when I felt Pete's thick fingers caress my thigh. He whispered "you know I did more than key parties in the seventies, it was the seventies after all. We didn't make much money wrestling around the local circuit, we shared rooms, and beds to keep costs low. With a few of the guys it became obvious the sleeping arrangements weren't only to save money" With that he grabbed my right hand and placed it on his dick "Still think you have seen bigger?"
I am sure I have seen bigger, but never felt bigger. I broke the tunnel vision, looked down at the dick in my hand, then at the twinkle in his eye. "Nothing to be ashamed of" I smiled.
He chuckled, let out a guttural growl, arched his eyebrow and said" wanna wrestle with Ivan?" "try out a few moves"
I said "I remember a move called The Hammerin' Headlock that might work"
I moved down one level and set my ass down on the bench between his powerful legs. I grabbed his dick, suckled a bit on his foreskin, and swallowed it in one motion. His thighs wrapped around my head in a classic Headlock, and he started hammerin'. His right hand held the back of my head, as if I could or would let go. He leaned over me with his dick stuffed down my throat and a single bead of sweat fell off his forehead to mine. His left hand gently wiped it off my brow as he winked at me. I moved up and down on his dick, as much as his thighs would allow. His dick was juicing up my mouth and throat with his honey, straight from the tap. A large seepage of juice made me swallow and my throat clasped at the thickness of his dick. I think that moment was all too much and Pete said "Damn son, that is neighborly, but I am getting a bit over heated"
Now if you know saunas, and the winter, we would be following up with the sauna with a plunge into the fresh snow outside. The shock to the system closes the pores opened by the sauna, and is the perfect end to the rite. However snow had drifted around the door to the back patio, effectively closing the doors. Besides both of us wanted to cool down, but not to the point of shrinkage, we wanted our party to continue. Pete took me to the shower next door, turned on one of the showers to a temperature that would work for the both of us. He then grabbed me close, tilted my head down to his and started kissing me. Nothing in what he had done previously lead me to think that would happen, but I didn't fight it. His hand grabbed my ass, pulling me in tighter as the water cascaded over us. I was bigger, he was stronger, but we were equals.
The taste of him was shared between us, but suddenly I wanted another taste, "that ass". I sunk down to my knees and turned him around. He looked over his shoulders, "those shoulders" and smiled, he knew what I wanted. He rested his elbows on the tiled wall, spread his legs and said "Be my guest" As water flowed over his back, I put a paw on each cheek, spread his ass, and dove in. The flavor of man, sweat, ass, heat and hair. was overwhelming and intoxicating. I think I enjoyed it as much for holding that ass, as well as eating it. My thumb would wander over to slightly tug by the hole, opening him up for my tongue. The more my hands pulled, the wider his stance became, allowing me to dart my tongue in further. His ass opened enough that I no longer needed to pry him open with my hands. My hands wandered up his back, that back. I followed the path that flowing water created in his back hair. I grasped his shoulders while licking the groove of his ass. Twice earlier tonight his grasp on my shoulder shocked me, but I did it simply as a way for my tongue to gain traction in his ass. I let a hand wander around, worried that my focus on his ass would diminish his erection. Instead I found it pulsing possibly harder then it was when I was in his hold.
I had discovered a direct link between licking his hole and the pulsations in his dick. I knew he was getting close which was fine since I was getting water-logged.. I spun him around and swallowed his dick. He looked down at me, his thick hands found each side of my jaw, and held me there while he unloaded in my mouth.. What I tasted earlier in the sauna, was heightened in the shower. I let the taste roll on my tongue while he shoved his thickness down my throat. The constriction of my throat caused him to unload some more, and stumble in the shower. His hands landed on my back in an attempt to keep himself upright.
I slowly got up to standing, and lost my footing for a minute, falling into his arms. I was winded from the actions of the night and easily collapsed there. His tongue found mine again, and I could almost feel him smile as he tasted himself there. He reached over, turned off the shower and we spent the next few moments discovering each other as we came down from our high. We slowly made our way out into the hall and air dried ourselves while we walked up to the living room. The road was worse than when I happened to get stuck, no one was going to travel down it any time soon, so neither of us were concerned about being naked. The fire was still going, he sat down on the wood and leather chair by the fireplace, pulled me onto his lap, and said "welcome to the neighborhood, neighbor." I felt his heavy dick spasm at the crack of my ass and knew I had found the right place to call home.