Eight Feet of Snow

By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM

I sat on my bed watching Maw put on her third dress. She had my father's winter coat and her shawl and a long woolen scarf as well. "I'm going to walk into town to pick up some provisions. This may take me a few days. You know where everything is, right?"

"Yes, Maw," I said dutifully. It had been snowing hard, and the snow was already two feet thick on the ground.

Maw paused long enough to add more logs to the fire from our large, ample supply laid in by Paw the prior autumn. Paw had died of a fever a month before and now it was just Maw and me in this cabin with the winter coming on strong.

Maw put on the scarf and shawl and then the coat and turned to me. "You know what to do, right, James?"

"Yes, Maw." I said again. "I'm seven years old, and I know how to fix beans and mix and make bread."

"And don't let the fire go out. Not even once. If it goes out and you can't get it going again, you'll freeze to death. Remember that. I hope to be home in three-four days."

"Okay, Maw." I said.

Maw got out into the falling snow and I wasn't worried, the village was only two miles down the mountain. There was a clear road all the way. Maw wouldn't have any problem.

I kept myself busy, using the time when I wasn't cooking beans and bread and putting more logs on the fire, and the days ticked by, the snow making the sky so dark it was a puzzle which was day or night, it was falling so hard. And I waited for one day, two days, three days, four days, five days, six days. No sign of Maw and I was getting worried. I kept the fire burning bright and the snow kept on falling.

Near sundown on the sixth day, the snow was five foot deep and there was a knock at the door. I jumped out of the bed (the cabin was cold even with the fire) and raced over to answer it. I flung open the door and it was not my mother standing there. A big, brawny man and I jumped back in fear at the size of him. "Who are you?"

The man pulled the scarf from around his face. "I'm Tom Henderson," he told me. "I came to check on you." The Hendersons lived just a half mile down the mountain from us and he was their eldest son and now about seventeen or eighteen years of age.

He walked on in through the now six feet of snow and I saw that he had a loaded sled he had dragged behind him all the way here, he drew it down the snow ramp he had dug to get to my door. The sled was loaded with provisions, a bag of beans, a bag of flour, and a big ham hindquarter which had been smoke-cured, as well as salt and other things. Food!

I was so grateful and he stomped up to the fire, discarding coats and sweaters as he did so. "Whew! You have it damned warm in here!" he exclaimed. "I may need to shuck my long johns if this is how you like the fire."

I laughed at that a lot harder than it was funny. Tom finished taking off his outer clothes and was now wearing only his shirt and pants and, I presume, his long johns under that and he turned and I saw his face clearly. Wow! I hadn't seen Tom Henderson in about three years but he had grown a lot in those three years not only up, but out! From gangly young teenager to brawny, muscled young man! I'd seen big, burly, strong men before, but Tom Henderson had them all beat hands down! And he didn't have the big gut most of those other men had, he was all muscle!

Tom turned and saw the look on my face, smiled, "What's cooking on the fire?" he asked me.

"Beans," I said. "'N' I got some bread I fried up yesterday to eat it with."

"Sounds good. Let's have supper." He said. With all the food he bought, I dug out our bowls and shoveled the beans in deep for him and me both. I'd been skimping on my food until then, but no reason to, now!

Tom shoveled in the food like there was no tomorrow and I watched in admiration. He had a shock of pale blond hair and bright blue eyes and a square chin with just a dusting of white beard hairs on it. His teeth, when not stained with mashed bean bits or bread, were shiny white and even. He consumed three times as much as I did and then sat back and said, "Ahhhh, that went down good. You cook good, John!"

"Thanks," I said. "I'll fry us up some of that ham for tomorrow, I haven't had ham in nearly three months!" I was exaggerating; we had only run out a month or so ago, before Paw died. But I wanted a reason to fix a big batch of that ham for myself tomorrow.

Tom and I talked and he yawned big after a time and said, "I'm ready for bed." He looked around but we only had the one bed. "Was that where you all slept?"

"Uh-huh. I slept in the middle between Paw and Maw, then Paw died, and it was just me and Maw." It was only then, honest, I thought to ask, "Where is Maw? Gone to town?"

"Naw," Tom said and was silent, then went on, "She arrived at our house dragging the sled I brought you. She was nearly frozen to death and running a fever. My Maw is tending to her. But she told us about you and I come to bring you the sled and take care of you until your mother is well and able to return to take care of you."

"Oh. Thank you."

"Pleased to do it," Tom looked at the door. "In fact, there wouldn't be much choice for me anyhow. Another snowstorm is starting in."

"Oh, no, more!" I wailed.

"I figure it'll be eight feet deep by the time the storm is over," Tom nodded. "We are snowed in unless there's some sunny days to melt the snowpack."

"Oh," I looked at the larder now filled with food. "I guess we're as ready for that as we'll ever be."

"Yeah," Tom went toward the bed stripping off his shirt as he walked. Done with that, he sat on the bed and took off his heavy leather boots, then stripped his socks off and wriggled his big, athletic toes happily. "Ahhhh!" He sighed and I laughed. Life was hard, and you took your joys where you could. And overall, things weren't so bad now.

I watched with only mild interest as Tom peeled off his pants, for he was still clad in the long johns, but then he turned my way and began to unbutton those too. "I'm gonna sleep nekkid if you don't mind," he said casually. "Better for the skin, Paw always says, and that's how my family always does it. Do you mind?"

"Uh...no," I admitted but my stomach was fluttering. I'd never seen a naked man before, and I frankly stared as he kept on unbuttoning the ten or twelve buttons down the front of the long johns. His chest as it was revealed held a light coat of hairs the same pale blond hairs and his muscles were bulges about his frame, they rippled as he moved to skin off the top half of the long-sleeved woven cotton and as he yanked them off his wrists over his hands, his biceps flexed out like magically inflating and deflating oranges under his skin. The long johns were clinging still to his waist and lower body and he reached into the interior and skinned them down his body and I got a quick glimpse of his dangling manhood as he bent over to push the long johns off his ankles and feet and he was clear of it, and pulled it up like a dead man's skin to one side, and he was like Herakles holding the skin of the Nemean Lion which he had freshly slain. But I wasn't looking at the long johns, I was looking at Tom's bare body, in all its fire-lighted golden glory. The flames lighting every muscle in three-dimensional relief, accenting his majestic form. The skin of his body was....

"Are you getting in bed, John?" Tom asked me, as I stood transfixed, mouth open, eyes wide. "You can't stand there all night." He turned and bent slightly to pull back the bedcovers and I saw his trim buttocks, dimpled in on each side, and then Tom was sliding under the covers and he scooted over and said, "Are you coming to bed now?"

"Uh, yeah," I said nervously and reached for my top shirt button.

Tom repaid my staring spell by lounging on the bed with his hands behind his head and watching me as carefully as I had watched him. He had a sort of smirk on his face as he did, and I realized that he had noticed my scrutiny of his body as he had undressed. I got naked as best I could in that stare and padded over to the bed.

"Maybe put a couple more logs on the fire," Tom suggested before I got in. "The fire looks low and it'll be damned cold tonight."

I turned and did this, thinking he had done this to prolong my nakedness before him. I got the fire loaded with logs and then went back toward the bed, and Tom's gaze shifted and I realized he was looking down at my own little pecker. I looked down myself and I had a stiffie and I blushed. "I'm sorry," I said.

"Hey, it happens. My wiener's pitching a tent too right now. You want to see?" He offered.

"Uh, that's okay," I opened the covers and crawled in, shifting uncomfortably into position.

"Relax, John, it's a normal thing for a guy to have, a woodie," Tom assured me,. "Me, I get one ever' day, maybe two or three times a day. When it happens, I milk it out and it lies down again."

"Milk it out?" I inquired. I visualized Tom on all fours and me milking him like a cow and squelched it.

I needn't have bothered, for Tom reached over under the covers and took my hand and placed it on his thick peter. It was warm and hard and thick and my fingers gripped it without thinking.

"Ahhh, that's it," Tom said. "Me and my brothers, we milk each other ever' night, and mornings too if we can. Feels better when someone else does it for you." As he said that, his hand came back over and fondled for, found and gripped mine. "What you do is, you work it like this."

He used his fingers to slip my cockskin back and forth and I gasped and moaned. "Feels good, doesn't it?" Tom cooed at me. "Do you like that?"

"Uh-huh," I said sincerely, breathlessly, lost in the sudden discovery of this exotic, extreme pleasure my body could give me.

"Can you do mine now?" he prompted me.

"Oh! Sure!" I eagerly began to pump on his rod, my little hand had to move up and down quite a bit to milk his nine-inch rod. Tom gasped and groaned, so I guessed I was doing it right.

"Mmmm, ahhhhhhh, ohhhhhh, uhhhhhh!" Tom moaned. "That's nice, that's really nice. I love it when my little brother jacks me and I love it when Joe sucks on my wiener, they're both great!"

His hand hadn't stopped but his words penetrated my joyful lust. "Suck on your wiener?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's terrific," Tom said almost nostalgically.

"Would I like it, too?"

"You'd love it."

"Teach it to me!" I begged Tom. "Show me how to do it. If you do mine, I'll do yours!"

Tom smiled and admitted, "It's why I asked you to put more logs on the fire." he said. "We need to get out from under the covers for this."

He was right, the roaring fire had the place way too warm for the four blankets that we were lying under. They would feel good when the cool morning made the cabin cold, but now they were almost stifling.

We both cooperated in moving the covers down the bed so that it was a fat roll of material compressed against the headboard and I could see Tom's body again though heavily shadowed by the angle of the bed to the fire. Tom scooted down on the bed and said, "Now you turn around so your head is at the foot of the bed."

I did so, realizing what he meant. I got my body with my face next to his huge, succulent man-sausage and I said, "Now what?"

"Now grip with your lips and not your teeth, they hurt if you hit me with them. Work up spit in your mouth and keep it there to help grease my dong as it moves for you. The slipperier you get it, the easier it will be. Like this," Tom's mouth wrapped around my little willie and his lips moved magically up and down, my peter was slicked up with his saliva and he had it moving smoothly up and down with his lips gripping my cockskin. He did this a time or two while I moaned, and then said, releasing his hold, "You got it now?"

"I got it."

"Then get it," Tom gestured downwards with his uppermost arm and hand.

With his lips returned to my wienie, I gratefully seized his love-log in my mouth and nearly gulped it down, I sank onto it so deep. My gag reflex made me back up again, but Tom moaned deeply.

"Mmmmmm, yeahhhhhh, do that again!" he urged me.

I coughed, then answered, "I can't, but I'll try again slower."

I gently took his now-slimy cock in my mouth and I slid my lips down, gripped his shaft and pulled up again, dragging his cockskin with my lips I went as far up as I could and then slid back down again.

"Yeahhhhh, ahhhhhh, that's how you do it, now do it faster, fast as you can."

I began to move, now that I had the way of it, it wasn't hard at all, or I should say it was easy, because his cock was really hard in the good way! As I moved, I found it easier and easier to go down deeper on his pecker with every downward push and I was almost taking it as deeply as I had that first try.

Tom was avidly working my piddle and I'm ashamed to say I didn't last long at all, I gasped and moaned and had to stop slurping on his prick while I moaned and groaned and thrashed. But when I was done, and could catch my breath, I returned to my duties of making Tom feel that good in return. It was great, I loved the way the shaft fit my mouth, the curve of his shaft was just the right curve to slide in easily and I was addicted to this right away and worked him as swiftly as I was able all the time as he gasped and grunted and shifted and writhed in his pleasure.

"Oh, John, oh, oh, you're better than Petey, better than Joe or Jim!" Tom breathed. "I am so glad you and I are snowed in together, we can do this over and over again as long as we have logs for the fire."

"Oh, we have lots of firewood, Paw laid in a lot of timber," I assured him in a pause to answer.

"Then I hope that eight feet of snow stays around a long, long time!" Tom sighed. I had returned to slurping on him and Tom suddenly started moaning and groaning like he was dying or something, I might have worried but then he yelled out, "AHHH-AHHH-AHHH-AHHHH, AH-HAHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUHHHHHH!"

I knew he was feeling what I had felt then, but wasn't prepared for the flood of hot liquid that jetted into my mouth and filled my gullet and I swallowed as more poured in my mouth to replace it and this time I tasted it. Thick, solid, male and delicious, I devoured the rest of the juice he was squirting out and when it was done I sucked on his rod like it was a straw and got a few more dregs of the wonderful love-liquid.

Tom sighed as his cock dwindled in sturdiness and girth and I let go of it and turned around, and he drew me in to his arms. "Damn, John, you got all my brothers beat and then some, you were fantastic!"

"And you taste terrific!" I said enthusiastically. "What was that stuff you squirted out?"

"Huh? That's the stuff that makes babies if you squirt it into a woman. You'll be squirting it yourself in a handful of years." Tom sighed, and then shivered, "I think I'm ready for those covers again."

"Me, too." I agreed and we together pulled them back up over us again.

I snuggled into his arms again and said with a sigh, "I'm with you, Tom."

"Uh?" He was falling asleep.

"I hope we stay buried in eight feet of snow all winter."

"Mmmm!" was all he replied.

I gave up talking and went to sleep in his arms.

THE END
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