Snowed In

Becca insisted that I date Heather. Time after time. Year after year.

Originally, Becca told me to invite her friend, Heather, as my date to the wedding, but I sent the RSVP as a single. Becca must have given orders to her ushers to seat me by Heather at the church, and I was seated by her at the reception dinner. Heather invited me to dance the first number and the second, and when I glanced at her for the third number, she was already on her feet. I looked forward to the rest of the evening. I knew basic dance steps but had never met a woman that enjoyed following my moves; generally, they complained I was too stiff or reserved, or boring. After several numbers Heather and I stayed on the dance floor. I did drink too much that night, but that was normal in those days. When Heather asked me to take her home. I staggered to my car and held the door for her to get in; however, when we got to her apartment, I declined the invitation to have a cup of coffee.

I waved to her and drove away.

If that set-up was not a date, it certainly was a passable imitation.

Becca did not let me forget that I failed to ensure that Heather entered her apartment safely.

"You dumb fuck! Rude. You just drove away. Too good for her. You hurt her feelings," said Becca.

Time after time. Year after year.

Five years... Becca divorced her mistake and still she insisted that I must date Heather.

Three failed relationships later, each one of them tracked by Becca, I attended a New Year Eve party at Becca's house and again, Heather was there. What did it say about us that we were all unmarried. I liked Heather, she was smart and sexy and attractive, and short. But something was just slightly off with her. I heard whispers from guys at the party after Heather passed by them...party girl...too easy...weird and kinky.

She knew what they said.

She was embarrassed when one of Becca's brothers invited her into a closet with him...for fifteen minutes.

He was drunk. He was earnest. He was loud.

"Heather, for people like you and me, this party is over. Give me a ride home, please," I said.

My car was parked outside. Heather had the reputation of being a designated driver, and everyone assumed I was three sheets to the wind by midnight, so I raised no eyebrows by asking for a ride home. I just wanted to give her some quiet time to get over the insult and, flattering myself, provide an hour of polite companionship. Midnight had passed and just an hour into the new year there had to be some way to start a transition to something better.

"Thank you, Matt, sometimes you get it right," said Becca.

She had gathered coats for Heather and I and kissed me on the cheek as she handed them to us.

This was the year I would turn thirty, and Becca and Heather, even though they were five years younger, were no longer the new kids on the block. I still felt like big brother to Becca, and by extension, to Heather and I just wanted to shelter and protect her. I had a high opinion of Becca, maybe it was a major crush, and if she liked Heather, then I liked her also. I just did not date women who were friends with my sisters, or in Becca's case, cousins.

In my boozey mind, I calculated that leaving with Heather would inspire gossip that I might, after all, be heterosexual. I knew the whispers that chased me. As a matter of fact, my sisters stoked the flames of gossip that burned my social reputation. One of my sisters was a good friend with the wife of one of Becca's brothers.

Large families are social torment.

Oh yes, I did invite Heather in for a cup of coffee, we did some chit-chat for an hour before I invited her to stay over. We slept in the same bed, but I fell asleep right away. It was a gentlemanly thing to do, I thought.

Besides, I had been awake for almost twenty-four hours and I was exhausted. Social functions were so stressful for me and I had not allowed myself to drink alcohol after ten pm the previous night. I needed to escape, to sleep.

I did not know that Heather lay awake beside me until after eight the next morning. I did not know she studied me as I slept.

She called Becca.

She reviewed the contents of every cabinet and drawer and found nothing to discourage her from her pursuit of me as a special friend. I did not wonder why Becca kept pushing me on Heather, I did not think that Heather had constantly nagged Becca to pursue me for more than six years. I ignored social networking. I never imagined Heather long ago decided that I was destined to love her.

Becca drove my car over to my place the next day and insisted that I visit Heather soon. She convinced me I was obligated to assure Heather she had not been just another one-night stand. I was slightly annoyed that Becca knew Heather had spent the night with me, oblivious to their campaign,

"Go see Heather, soon. It may be a matter of life or death. I insist. By the way, Matt, go to bed with her and do more than sleep. Do I have to draw a picture for you? Are you trying to insult her? Fuck her. Do it. Do not tell her I said to do that, just do it," Becca said.

I promised to see her.

On a Saturday afternoon in mid-January, I knocked at Heather's door. The snowstorm had been upgraded to a blizzard forecast. Snow was already six inches deep and falling at a rate of two inches an hour and winds gusted to fifty miles an hour. Becca had arranged the date, informal and impromptu and made me promise to show up. No way was I going to hear it for the rest of my life if I broke Becca's arrangement.

Becca told me I had to be there and had to plan on staying the night. Becca said she was worried about Heather that week-end and I had to keep her from being alone, or from seeking the wrong man. Becca assigned me to, literally, save Heather's life. Someone was a drama queen, maybe.

Heather answered the door, disheveled, in a flannel nightgown. After a moment of obvious surprise, she stood on tiptoe and grabbed the lapels of my woolen great coat to lift herself for a kiss. Her lips parted slightly as they quivered to mine and her tongue parted my lips and her tongue quivered. I never felt anything like that.

Tremors in my mouth.

I pulled away from her. I do not enjoy hugs and gropes, or demonstrations of feigned emotions and I must have had a funny look, probably perplexed, because she laughed at me. She told me to relax and said I surprised her.

"Becca sent you. I did not think she had that power over you. You are a gift. Do you believe it? Becca sent you here to be my birthday gift to her, obviously. She is so sweet to us. Twisted, but very sweet, in her own way. I promise I will not kiss you again...maybe," Heather said.

She released her two-hand grasp on my coat and dropped one hand to mine and led me into her apartment. As she hanged my coat on the top of the closet door, so it could dry, she started talking.

"No one, absolutely no one, will ever know what goes on in here this week-end. But, please understand, Becca wants this for you, to be happy. You are dear to her and she loves you. She wants you as part of our lives. I know you are here because you feel obligated to Becca. There are strong vibes. You have an aura. It is okay. I will not take advantage of you. Becca is playing both of us. She is such a control freak and drama queen."

"Whoa, that is weird. What do you and Becca have going? Not that way I mean. Okay, we know she is a control freak, and I will not argue the drama queen point. But what is all the twisty-turny stuff about me being a birthday present? You have some explaining to do," I said.

She poured wine for me and I sat on the loveseat and she sat beside me with her feet tucked under her. Occasionally, I saw a toe wiggle from under the flannel hemline.

"I see you were so surprised that you had wine and two glasses set on the coffee table," I said.

"You flatter yourself. Of course, I was going to drink a little. What else can one do ..." she said.

We had more wine and I enjoyed our conversation about the weather. She told me we would be snowed in for the next twenty-four hours, maybe more.

Some women chatter, some chirp and some sound like chipmunks, many seem to babble. But Heather was different, not that her words always made sense, she spoke of my being cute, and there was no logic, but her voice was a melody. I knew she had worked for years in a department store in furnishings or some such. I learned she recently began managing a store for a home décor chain and she knew I was not advancing in my own career.

"Mattie dearest, you are so passive, we know you do not like accounting, why on earth do you continue with something you do not like. You are so nice, so docile. Anyway, we will not let your limited funds cramp our style, if you ever want to get out, let us know. It is not as if you are some dead-beat moocher. You can be one of the girls, our special boy, Becca and I will learn to share you. We like to shop and spend. Get used to being spoiled and, well, we want you to get used to being our Mattie, as if you are one of us girls. You are too nice to other people, we will change that about you, it is okay to be a little bit of a bitch to other people. You can learn that. Oh Mattie, you are so cute, such a pretty face and really, a very nice butt, too sexy for a man. You dress all wrong, we need to dress you to show off your best features. You look after me, obey Becca, we take care of our Mattie," she said.

During this conversation, she spoke softly and lowered her voice to whisper for emphasis and I had to lean toward her and I inhaled her natural feminine scent. Her thick hair covered her neck but revealed her shoulders, dark natural brown waves with blonde highlights. Thin, black pencilled lines accented her eyelids, lashes and eyebrows and eye shadow truly flattered her face when she closed her eyelids, which she did when she whispered. Her breathing was nuanced and enhanced her vocabulary.

"Mattie, you like my make-up? Frankly, it is one of the things I have a natural talent for. I showed Becca how to accent her best features. She has strong, Irish features, she does not come across as an innocent lass, I had to soften her features and now she looks more sophisticated. I can do that for you, to bring out your feminine side so you are more mysterious. Mattie, you will drive men crazy and they will be attracted to you and not know why! Becca, you and me will be awesome. Other girls will be so jealous. Oh Mattie, you are too pretty to be a man," she said.

Cycles and repetitions of flattery and compliments of my full lips, long eyelashes, high cheek bones that usually would make me uneasy became disarming choruses. She spoke my name with honeyed familiarity and touched my face as she spoke. She traced her fingernail over my eyebrow. She pulled my lower lip down to look at my gum line. She put both hands to the side of my face to feel my cheekbones. I watched her lips pout as non-verbal reprimands if I pulled away from her. She convinced me that I had been remiss to neglect my charm. Husky emotion grounded her expressions of auras and fates and acceptance. The more wine I drank, the more she enchanted me. She seduced me.

She watched me gaze at her toes, and she wiggled them for me. We laughed.

She turned her back to the arm of the loveseat and put her foot against my thigh. She wiggled her toes and her foot rubbed my leg and then ducked under it, so the back of her foot pulled against the inside of my thigh.

"Turn around. Mattie, dearie, look at me. Let me see your gorgeous face rather than your profile. You are so beautiful," she said.

"Yes Darling, I want you to see me at my best," I said.

"Yes. See. Now I can reach you," she said. "Darling."

I said "darling" with a touch of sarcasm but the moment I said it, I wanted to have a beautiful face for her. Also, when I called her "darling" her smile became radiant and her eyes flashed. I never saw a woman respond so dramatically to such trivial endearment. Her foot moved into my lap and then she lowered it to my crotch. When she spoke "darling", she wiggled her toes against my nuts. She was not rough, she did not use too much pressure. It felt good, weird and arousing.

Long ago, I dated a girl that tried to initiate a hand job, but she was too rough. Since then, I discourage women from touching me like that.

Heather pushed gently against my nuts with her toes and then, as I held my breath, she raised her foot along the bulge my shaft made in my jeans. I stared at the line of her calf revealed by her movement, watched her face as she concentrated on her foot and she bit her lip as her toes felt my erection swelling as she massaged me.

I saw some of her thigh.

"Oh, I like that. Mattie, you do too. Your pretty smile, that could never be fake," she said.

Lightening flashed outside, the interior lighting dimmed, and the power surged, and I knew the relationship between Heather and I had changed. I was no longer her big brother surrogate. I became her disciple and accepted her as a mentor. I was almost out of breath. I reached for her foot and took it with both hands and massaged it.

"What are we doing? Nature did not put our lights out. We must be doing something right. Oh, your foot is so warm," I said.

I tugged at each toe and wrapped my fingers around her foot, so her toes were cupped in the palm of my hand. I had never enjoyed a girl's foot like that. It seemed a bit goofy, but natural. She wriggled her toes in my palm and arched her foot to press to my hand. I lifted it to my face, inhaling her personal, neutral scent. Putting her foot to my mouth as if for a kiss, but instead of a kiss, I could not resist tasting her, I pressed her big toe through my lips and into my mouth and my tongue wiped underneath it.

"Oooh, I like that," she said.

The pit of my stomach contracted, and my hand tightened on her ankle and I felt myself swell in my boxers, my delighted response, an erection. My mouth watered as I anticipated snacking on her. Her toe was wet in my mouth and I felt her push and wiggle, so more toes entered my mouth. She fed me. I had to slurp to keep from drooling.

"Oh Mattie," she said.

She whispered with wonder and disbelief, something special happened. I felt happy.

"Suck me. Your mouth wants more...me...more... nice. This ...nice...turning me... on! So ...so...so... ON," she said.

She squirmed in her seat, but she held her foot steady for me and I continued to suck her. As she squirmed, she showed that she did not wear anything under the nightgown. She gave me her toes. In my mouth. I closed around them. Pulled her foot gently. Shifted my face. We watched each other's eyes.

Her toes wiggled at my lips. One by one, she slipped them away until she left me with only her big toe. My tongue explored around the toenail as my hand wrapped around her smaller toes, drying them as I caressed and then sucked her big one.

She put her hand to her lap and pressed hard into her crotch. I saw the flannel turn darker with her juices.

"Kinky Mattie. So kinky," she said.

Her breath became audible and ragged as she moved her fingers. She pouted her lower lip and concentrated. I watched her find exactly the right place, she sucked her lower lip into her mouth. She applied varying pressure and got the timing just right, she bit her lip. I worked my mouth with the dance of her fingers and she and I communicated with motion and touch. My head moved with her hand and I sucked her toe...nibbled at it...bit it...and kissed it... kissed it wetly ... kissed it as I slurped my drool. She moved her other foot to my crotch.

"Sooooo... let me unzip ... Mattie let me ...my foot in your jeans... want me? Uh...oh...oh yessss...so nicer...Mattie unzip...for me...ahh...ahhh...ahhhh...you do... for me. Please...pretty Mattie... please... pretty please," she said.

I thought she was pretending to be getting off. I had never imagined such a scene. I knew she would smirk at me if I unzipped.

I was small.

What if I exposed myself and she laughed at me. What if she laughed at me. I thought she was setting me up for a "gotcha".

I watched her face and sucked her toe and pulled it so only the tip was in my mouth and my tongue played with her toenail. She held her foot, so poised, her calf firm and leg extended, and I sucked her toe as I awkwardly unzipped my jeans. She breathed a deep sigh of relief and raised her other foot to my lap, forced her foot inside the fly of my jeans and curled her toes over the head of my cock. I felt her holding and tugging my dick with her toes. It felt so good, so sincerely intimate.

Now we both had shallow raspy breathing and I lost track of sucking her toe for a moment and she tickled my chin with her little toes and pushed her big toe against my tongue. I felt a gush of pre-cum soak my underwear. She wiggled her toes and manipulated them to get inside my wet boxers. We both got wide-eyed as she curled her toes around the head of my slippery dick. We were both breathless in the moment, a forever moment. She clenched her toes, held my cock and massaged and pressed it firmly to my stomach and stroked the shaft of my erection with sloppy wet toes.

"Such a cute little dinkie!"

I know I blushed, but she seemed pleased and I pushed her foot away from my dick and unbuckled my belt and pulled my shirt up. I tugged my jeans and underwear down below my hips. Then, I grabbed her foot from my crotch and sucked at those toes. I licked pre-cum off her and she put her other foot down there and kept doing me.

"Oh, my darling," I spoke into her toes and watched the smile on her face as I licked and sucked the flavor of my juice off her. She flashed mega-watt smiles as I spoke tenderly to her foot.

"My sweet darling," I said.

Her toes were working over and around my cock and she was jerking me off. I was going to explode.

"Wait! Mess...what do...do we...oh no," I said.

It was too late.

She giggled.

"Oh... nasty, kinky, Mattie...just cum for me...do it," she said.

She lay back and attacked my cock and balls with both feet. She put her whole foot along my cock and stood it up to my belly and stroked it and her other foot curled around my cock head and she manipulated the head and stroked the shaft and both feet were frantic, erotic and gentle. I spurted again. She rubbed the cum over my cock and rubbed her feet together and covered them and me and she jerked me off. She did not stop. I came again and then again dribbled more cum and she rubbed her foot along my cock and made me harder than before I came.

"Oh no! The mess. Hot...hot...you are so hot! I cannot jerk off this good," I said.

"Oh Mattie! You are precious! You are laughing. We are having fun. I knew I would enjoy you," she said.

She pulled her feet away from me and curled up and she put her face in my lap and she nestled deeper between my legs. I felt her mouth licking and sucking and quivering her lips over my shaft and down to my nuts and her tongue worked over me and cleaned me. I did not wait for her to finish the job. I lay down and pulled her to my face and shoved my head under her nightgown and my face pushed in her crotch and I found her scent and my nose rubbed into her and I grunted. Satisfied for a moment, I inhaled. She murmured encouragement and moved and shifted her weight and her hands pulled her nightgown above her ass and I could breathe again. I found my mouth to her pussy and licked and sucked juices from her. We both enjoyed sucking and eating each other until we came again and cleaned again and then we sucked and kissed the wet tender places and held our hands to each other's ass and pulled ourselves into the other and did not let each other pull away.

I love to suck and to savor skin stretched over soft flesh as muscles tighten under it. I enjoy the taste of acrid excretions of earthy pleasures. I always thought of my mouth and my tongue as feminine. It led me to a servitude, not at all masculine. But as much as I wanted the tactile arousal of having my tongue explore the sensitivities of my lover, I was inhibited by a shame and embarrassment. Reluctantly, resentfully, I expected and allowed my cock to take priority and feign the assertion of masculinity.