A Winter's Tale

The train pulled into Brighton station exactly on time. It was Christmas Eve and it seemed like half the country was on the move, so I'd been expecting the traditional yuletide delays and endless apologies from bored-sounding tannoy announcers. But everything had gone very smoothly, and I'd even managed to get a seat for the last part of the journey from London. Watching the white frosted fields and cosy little towns racing past in the darkening afternoon I was feeling warm and quite festive, and suddenly excited to be going home to my family for the first time in a year.

I'm at university in the north of Scotland, pretty much as far from Brighton as you could get. As a result it's quite a slog to get home and not cheap either. Anyway there are plenty of other distractions to keep a young man busy and occupied even in small town Scotland. There's my studies, involving increasing hours of lectures, seminars and research. Then there's a busy social life to keep up with. Living with friends for the first time, in a small house in the town, has been an amazing experience. Just being able to buy what you like to eat, sit up all night watching crap horror films, sleep in all day if there's no lectures, have a sexy, naked, hard body in the bed with you when you wake up...ah, yes, that brings me to Paul.

I'd gone away to uni knowing that I was gay, constantly feeling horny, wanking about three times a day, and feeling absolutely terrified that I might finally have the chance to do something about it. The first term had been quite quiet, sexually speaking, as I'd settled in, got drunk too often and bonded with the disparate mix of people on my corridor in halls.

I'd joined quite a few different student societies too, notably the rowing club as I'd had a bit of previous experience of rowing at school, and found I was actually pretty good at it. There was also the constant pleasure of being surrounded by fit, muscular guys, and surreptitiously eyeing their cocks bulging in their lycra shorts didn't exactly put me off either. The training sessions involved getting up really early, puffing and panting up and down a sometimes freezing stretch of water, then back to someone's house for a cup of tea and a fry-up. It was great fun! Paul and I were on the same team, and shared much the same sense of humour, so we became firm friends pretty quickly. I vaguely knew that I quite fancied him. He was tall and solid, dark featured, and had great muscular legs. He also filled out a pair of lycra shorts very nicely, at both front and back but I knew he had a girlfriend, was a Christian, and led a fairly sedate life.

Until, that is, the Easter holidays of my first year. I was staying in Scotland, I had a part-time waiting job and badly needed some time and space to catch up on some research work in the library. Paul was also staying in town for the holidays, and as we lived fairly near each other he popped over to my place quite often. So when his boiler packed in a few days after the end of term, it was only natural he should turn to me for help. I, of course, said he was more than welcome to come and crash at mine, although it would involve us sharing my double mattress.

The first night he stayed was a pretty normal night really. We had a drink in the pub, came home, stayed up a while with a smoke and another drink, then got ready for bed. I couldn't help but cast admiring glances his way as he stripped down quickly to a very fetching pair of faded grey cotton briefs, the bulge of his cock prominent in the worn pouch. It was unseasonably warm so he took his t-shirt off too, and I was able to surreptitiously get a good luck at his lean muscled torso and firm pecs. God! He really was a beautiful man. He had let his thick dark hair grow out a little bit over the term, and he now ran his fingers through it, settling it behind his ears. He had a couple of days growth of dark stubble, but the rest of his skin was creamy white, clear and healthy. His eyes were a beautiful hazel colour, large and fringed with thick dark lashes. He saw me looking at him, gave me a slightly bashful smile, and quickly got in between the sheets. I stripped down quickly too, turning my back to him so he wouldn't see the little tent pushing out my jockey shorts, and slid onto my side of the bed leaving my clothes in a heap on the floor.

We lay side by side for a while, talking about this and that, then I yawned and reached up to turn off the light. The room was still quite well lit from the full moon shining onto the back of the house, and I remember hearing the steady rise and fall of Paul's breathing as I drifted off into sleep...

I woke up, must have been some hours later, to feel a hand sliding up my inner thigh. I didn't move, was hardly breathing, wondered if Paul was moving around heavily in his sleep? This half-formed question in my sleepy mind was answered almost immediately as the hand tentatively found the cotton edge of my boxers and worked it's way underneath, travelling higher to stop just at the side of my heavy scrotum. I became aware that Paul was breathing heavily and I sensed that he had turned his body to face me. I didn't know yet if he thought I was awake or not, but my cock had definitely woken up and was beginning to lengthen and thicken where it lay on my thigh.

I was feeling seriously aroused, though aware at the same time that Paul was straight and had a girlfriend. However, any misgivings I may have had about what was happening were quickly banished as Paul's fingers tenderly cupped my hairy balls and I heard a sharp intake of breath. I moaned gently, as if in my sleep I hoped, and turned my body slightly towards him, opening my thighs a bit wider as I did so. Paul's hand stopped abruptly, as did the heavy breathing, so I quickly settled myself and began to breath regularly and deeply, hoping this would just pass for restless sleep movements. A minute or so later his soft hand resumed it's gentle caress of my hairy sack, then moved to circle the base of my throbbing hard prick. He gingerly moved his hand higher until my cock was lying flat on his palm, then he gently closed his fingers around my stiff shaft. There was another intake of breath as he felt it's hardness and length.

I couldn't very well play at sleep now, with a man's hand wrapped around my swollen cock, so taking a chance, but still not saying anything, I slowly reached out my own hand and rested it on his bare hip on top of the elasticated band of his undies. Paul didn't say anything but I felt his hand freeze around my cock. I began to make small circular movements with my hand, hoping to relax him enough that he'd carry on and after another few seconds passed I felt the first tentative movement of his fingers on my throbbing stiffy.

We were now lying facing each other and as he began slowly wanking me my hand slipped under the leg of his briefs. I laid my hand flat on his hip then slid it down over the smooth muscular expanse of his arse until I could cup his cheek in my hand. It felt amazing, solid and muscular when his arse tensed, as it first did on my contact, then smooth, meaty and round as he relaxed. I moved my hand around to his front, brushing his lightly haired belly, pulling out the front of his briefs as I did so. I could feel the weight of his prick pushing out his briefs, so I gently reached in and slipped my fingers around his length. His cock was fat and hard, filling my hand like a warm fleshy banana. Paul's breath was coming in ragged pants, and he moaned softly as I moved my hand back to push his briefs onto his hairy thighs, exposing his prick in it's full hardness. And still, neither one of us said a word...

I pushed back the bedclothes and manoeuvred myself between his bent legs, making Paul lie back on the rumpled mattress. Half kneeling over his panting frame I slowly drew his undies down over his arse, noticing in the strong white moonlight that flooded the bedroom that a patch of dark grey was highlighted on the pouch where his stiff tool had leaked precum. I could see his eyes were tightly closed. His hand had relinquished it's hold on my cock when I moved, and he now put both arms behind his head, thrusting his chest out towards me.

I slowly leaned in towards his groin and as my nose made contact with the wiry hair on his balls, I breathed in the heady scent of an aroused male groin. I ran my tongue over his slightly sweaty balls and, as he gasped and wriggled slightly, I licked my way to the base of his cock. I tongued my way up his thick length until his massive swollen head was against my lips. I could feel his precum coating my lips with a slippery discharge so I opened them over his fat mushroom. He groaned, louder this time, and then louder again as I took him into my mouth, my lips stretched wide over his thick shaft.

I hadn't given that many blow-jobs in my time, but I thought I knew roughly what I was doing, and Paul certainly seemed to enjoy the sensation. He wriggled again on the bed, gripping the sheets with his hands, and when I moved back to get a better angle on his cock, he raised his arse off the bed, panting to keep his length stuffed into my tight mouth. I grabbed his smooth arse cheeks and used them to pull him in and out of my mouth. His stiff prick slid easily in and out, his arse rhythmically clenching and softening, and time seemed to slow for a few minutes as I feasted on his large knob.

I found my fingers sliding over Paul's smooth bum cheeks until they came to rest on each side of his crack. He strained upwards to fuck my mouth and as he relaxed before the next thrust I slipped a finger further along his damp, lightly haired arse crack and found his tightly puckered hole. I rubbed a finger over it, flattening the ring of damp hair around the hole, feeling the ridges of his muscle. The tip of my finger fit perfectly in his small hole and, using the natural lubrication from his sweaty cheeks, I slowly wiggled my finger inside. Paul let out a stifled gasp as my finger slid past his tight sphincter muscle but continued bucking his hips to drive his shaft into my eager mouth. Slowly, as he released after every thrust, my finger slid deeper and deeper into his guts until my knuckles came to rest against his straining hole. It was an incredible sensation for me, having my finger up my mate's muscular bum, feeling the velvet softness of his insides, the heat and tightness where it gripped the base of my finger.

I moved my finger around in a small circular motion, and this movement inside his bowels seemed to prove the tipping point for Paul's increasingly frantic thrusting. His faint moans suddenly built in intensity and speed. His hands grabbed my hair, just above my ears, and he held my head steady as he gave a small cry and his cock stiffened to a steel bar. His thrusts almost stopped. Sensing he was about to cum I tightened my lips around his shaft. He pulled his cock half way out of my mouth and slowly slid it in again a couple of times, then moaned and squirted a long jet of spunk against the back of my throat. This was followed by another, and another, and I swallowed his warm salty cum greedily, revelling in it's taste and feel as it slid down my throat.

Eventually Paul's thrusts stopped and I let his slippery knob out of my mouth and slowly withdrew my finger from his tight arsehole. A string of cum hung off my lip and I wiped it away. I eased myself up to straighten my back, which was having a weird cramp from being bent over so long. A minute or two passed as I kneaded the parts of my back I could reach and Paul recovered his breath. He gave a small cough and I looked up. He was looking at me, holding my eyes. I didn't know what I'd see in his handsome face: fear, guilt, loathing? But instead he looked deep into my eyes, reached out a hand and stroked my cheek tenderly.

"I'd better go" he said, the first words since we'd gone to bed. That felt like days ago.

"No" I said quickly. "Stay. We both need some sleep."

"OK" Paul said quietly. "OK."

We lay down, side by side, and I pulled the blanket over us. My mind was a whirl with all that the night meant, but I must have fallen asleep despite this. In the morning, when I awoke, Paul was gone...

****

I eventually managed to get a taxi from the station and by the time it pulled up outside my parents house I was excited and anxious to get inside. Christmas had always been a pretty big deal in my family and, as we were now older and had left home, I knew my mum was looking forward to having her children home for a few days. My sister and her boyfriend had come down from Liverpool and my twin brother and his girlfriend had arrived from London yesterday, so my arrival completed the gathering.

It was great to see my family. I dumped my bags in the hall and enjoyed a frantic five minutes of hugs, kisses and 'good to see you' greetings before I noticed an unfamiliar figure had entered the kitchen and was leaning against the door frame. My brother made the introductions.

"Rich, this is Ben. Ben, meet Rich." As we shook hands cheerfully I quickly took in the artfully tousled dark blond hair, even white teeth and lean build. On first impressions he was very cute. His voice was warm and light, with an unmistakeably American accent.

Matt, my brother, cleared his throat. "Ben was due to be going back to Ohio for the holidays, but something came up so he's kind of stuck in Britain. He's spending Christmas here, with us."

"Great" I said. "Good to have you." I gave Matt a questioning look that said 'so what's the story', and got a clear 'we'll talk about this later' look in return.

"I'm really looking forward to spending a traditional British Christmas with you guys" Ben said, with an easy smile. "It's great of your folks to put me up like this."

"Well, the more the merrier" I replied, smiling back, and as mum had just called us all for dinner we began to make our way to the dining room. It was a lovely evening, loads of food and wine and laughter, everybody catching up with everybody else's news, and the house felt warm and cosy, twinkling with lights and decorations, a log fire burning brightly in the sitting room. I've always loved Christmas Eve, probably more than Christmas Day itself, as the anticipation of the 'Big Day' is still with you, the promise of the long drawn-out build-up to Christmas finally nearly arrived.

It was as I was helping to clear the dishes into the kitchen that Matt collared me in the hall.

"I hope you're OK with this matey" he began quickly, flashing me a conciliatory grin. "Mum's made up a bed for Ben on your bedroom floor. It was all very last minute, him coming here to stay, I'm sure he'll explain it all to you later. I just wanted to check that it was OK with you."

"Yeah, I guess so" I said. My room was pretty big and despite not having much of a chance to talk to Ben at dinner he seemed like a nice enough man. We'd caught each others eye a few times over dinner and smiled. I instinctively liked him, and he had a faintly geeky, slightly bookish look about him that I always found quite appealing.

Sure enough, when I eventually took my bags up to my old room a mattress was set out on the floor, the covers neatly folded back and a bag and some shoes arranged tidily against the wall. I'd already said my goodnights, and had a brief shower, as I was pretty knackered after my day spent travelling so I quickly stripped down to my brief undies and t-shirt and clambered into bed. I was just reaching out to the bedside table to turn the lamp off when the door opened slowly and Ben poked his head in the room. Seeing that I was awake he came in, closing the door after him.

"Hey, I wasn't sure if you were still awake. Thank you so much for letting me crash with you" he said, moving to the side of the mattress. "I really appreciate it."

"That's fine" I replied. "Are you...uuhh...coming to bed now?"

"Yeah" Ben said, pulling off his jumper in one go. "It's been a long day, huh?"

"Oh yes" I replied. "Scotland seems a long way away down here". I was suddenly aware that Ben may be about to take his clothes off in front of me. "I just hope you'll be comfortable enough down there."

"Oh, I'm sure I'll be fine" Ben said, unbuttoning his shirt and shucking it off his shoulders. Fuck, I thought, nice chest! He had a lean torso, tapering nicely from quite broad shoulders. His chest was covered (to my surprise) with a dark blond fur that curled up to the base of his throat and disappeared enticingly into the band of his jeans. His nipples were small and pink, standing out proud on defined pecs.

Ben reached over to his bag and took out a folded white t-shirt. He shook it out, gave a theatrical shiver and quickly put it on.

"It's a bit parky, isn't that what you guys say?" he asked with a smile.

"Yeah" I replied, then added cheekily "well done."

"Why thank you" Ben deadpanned, raising an eyebrow. "I'm almost a native." These last words were said in a faux English accent, and I laughed.

"So how come you're spending Christmas with my nutty family rather than your own?" I enquired, propping myself up on one elbow.

"Well" Ben began, unbuttoning his jeans. "My family's kind of imploded, if you know what I mean. My dad left my mom recently, she's gone to her mom's and I just couldn't deal with all that shit right now. 'Happy Christmas son!'" he finished, flashing a rather forced smile. "It could have been better timing."

"Shit, you're not wrong" I sympathised. "I'm sorry it's turning so crap for you."

Ben's jeans hit the floor. Despite the rather intense news we were sharing I couldn't resist a sly peek at his legs and I got a flash of snug-fitting white briefs before his t-shirt dropped down over his waist. Good legs though! And thighs! They looked very shapely in the warm orangey lamp-light, long and muscular, covered in a fuzz of lighter blond hairs. I looked up at Ben, and caught him looking straight back at me. Shit, maybe he knew I was checking him out....

Ben smiled at me, and ran a hand through his hair. "Hey, don't worry. Your brother's been a life-saver though. Not sure what I would have done if he hadn't been around."

Ben slipped between his own sheets and propped his pillows behind his back, maintaining our eye contact. We chatted on for a while, about family and England, his friendship with my brother (they were on the same course at uni), and the more we chatted the more comfortable and relaxed I felt with this relative stranger in my bedroom. He was funny, in a dry self-deprecating way, and had some amusing stories about what he and my brother got up to at university. I was feeling a connection to this man, a growing sense of attraction. Not just because physically he was extremely handsome (and just looking at him so intently was beginning to arouse me beneath the duvet) but also because of the way he listened to me, encouraged me to talk, laughed at my crap humour. And all the while, as we talked, we kept looking into each other's eyes, smiling at each other, listening to each others words. I realised that I was flirting with him, and began to get a feeling that he was doing exactly the same with me ...

After about half an hour or so, during which we talked about anything and everything, I had willed my erection down enough that I could get out of bed, needing to use the loo. When I came back into the bedroom, Ben was no longer lying on his mattress but was now kneeling on my bed and had put his face up close to the window.

He heard me come in. "Come look at this" he said excitedly. I made my way over to the bed and knelt up next to him, aware that our sides were nearly touching. I rubbed a patch in the condensation on the window and looked out. It was snowing!

"Isn't it beautiful" Ben breathed beside me. "It's magical!"