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...