A Bird in Winter
It was a cold December evening and wind whistled through the branches of the linden tree in Dan's back yard. Dense clouds the color of steel wool were rolling in from the west. Dan took a swallow of beer and listened for birds, but the only sound he heard was a freight train blowing its whistle somewhere in the distance -- probably heading south like the birds, thought Dan. He put his beer down on the porch near the three empties and rubbed his hands together.
Dan hated holidays. On holidays he and Ann used to go to their favorite restaurant for dinner and then to see a movie or play, but that was a lifetime ago. Now he preferred to stay at the office and work, the later the better. Today, however, everyone had gone home early and the building manager had turned the heat off at five o'clock, so Dan had little choice but to lock up his office and go home. He stopped at the Seven-Eleven and bought a couple of six packs, deciding quite deliberately to get wasted that night. One of the six packs was almost finished.
All the other houses on Dan's street were decorated with colorful Christmas lights but you would never know it was a holiday In Dan's house. He had briefly considered getting a small Christmas tree to put on his dining room table, but the idea of going to the mall and wading through crowds of shoppers made him drop the idea. Who would see it anyway? He avoided the Christmas party at the office as well, telling his co-workers that he had a migraine headache. Everyone tried to be nice, of course, but they didn't really understand. Ann had been gone four months and Dan was just going through the motions. His days passed as if he were sitting alone in a theater watching an old black-and-white movie run over and over and over again. Sometimes he wished he he'd been the one to die.
Dan was thirty-six years old, well-educated, a smart and successful architect. He was fit and handsome as well, standing a little over six feet tall with broad shoulders and a washboard stomach that he inspected with a critical eye each morning when he dressed. He had a taste for expensive clothes and wore them well. Seeing his dark, curly hair framing a boyish face, some of his clients found it hard to believe he was old enough to be the managing partner of his firm. But there were other things they'd never believe about him. Such as the fact that he was sitting alone at home getting drunk on Christmas Eve. But what else could he do? He didn't know any single women to ask out on a date, and he detested going to singles' bars where all the losers with painted-on smiles searched the room desperately for someone to go home to bed with. He would rather drink himself to oblivion than subject himself to that kind of torture.
The darkness was descending now and the wind was kicking up in frigid, piercing gusts. In the fading light, tiny snowflakes began to swirl and form a thin coating on the deck. Dan got up and stumbled into the house.
The kitchen with its sleek white cabinets and stainless steel appliances – it was one of Dan's pet projects at one time -- seemed as cold and sterile as an operating room. He began to pace aimlessly, walking into the dining room, then into the living room and back to the kitchen, like an animal in a cage. He stopped at the refrigerator and was reaching for another beer when he heard a loud knock on the back door.
"Hey, Dan, you in there?" a muffled voice called.
"What the --?" Who would come to visit on a night like this?
Dan opened the door and peered out with surprise to see his young neighbor, Tim, standing in the swirling snow. He had no hat or coat; he was standing in jeans and a long-sleeved plaid shirt, shivering. His cheeks were red and his hair was matted with glistening snow.
"C'mon in!" said Dan, shoving the screen door open.
Tim wiped his feet and quickly stepped inside, slapping his sides. "Damn it's cold! How's it going, man?" He sputtered and grinned.
Tim was almost ten years younger than Dan and somewhat smaller in stature, with reddish-blond hair and freckles on his cheeks that gave him the fresh-scrubbed look of a schoolboy. He was a newcomer to the neighborhood, having moved into the small framed cottage at the end of the block the previous summer. In realtor's parlance his place was a "fixer-upper," meaning that it needed some serious rehab work to escape the wrecking ball. Tim had picked it up for a song and was working on it in his spare time.
Tim was also gay, but Dan didn't mind that. Dan had never been troubled by homosexuals as long as they didn't talk with a lisp or wear studs in their tongues. And Tim was a pretty regular guy as far as gay men were concerned. He worked for a construction company and didn't have any feminine mannerisms. In some ways he reminded Dan of the guys in his high school who didn't bother going to college. After graduation they bought pickup trucks and watched Monday night football and tossed down beers when they finished their shift at the steel mill. And most surprising of all, they always seemed happy. There were times when Dan wanted to be a regular guy like that.
The first time the two met, Dan disclosed that he was an architect and it wasn't long before Tim started dropping by, asking for tips about remodeling his house. Dan didn't mind because the younger man had an easygoing personality and a wicked sense of humor. After they had gotten to know each other, they developed a sort of running joke between them. Tim would tease Dan about being straight-laced and uptight, and Dan would pretend to be shocked by Tim's licentious gay lifestyle. Sometimes they would say outrageous things to each other and it led to some entertaining conversations. And then when Ann died, Tim sent a flower arrangement to the funeral home and stopped by the house with a big box of delicious baked goods. Dan was touched. It was a kindness he wouldn't soon forget.
"Have a beer," Dan ordered, pointing to a chair.
"Thanks, don't mind if I do." The young man wiped his brow and sat down at the kitchen table. He popped open the can and looked at the falling snow through the kitchen window. "I was out on the ladder doing some caulking and it got too dark to see so I thought I'd come over and say hey."
"Are you nuts? It's crazy to be up on a ladder working in weather like this."
"Yeah, I know. Hell of a way to spend Christmas Eve. But I didn't have anything better to do. So, how are you doing, Danny? Still hangin' in there?"
"Oh, everything's peachy," said Dan, drumming his fingers on the table. Then he had second thoughts about being so sarcastic. "Actually it's been a lousy day," he admitted. "Not in the mood for Christmas."
"Sorry to hear that."
"It sucks to be alone on a holiday."
"Yeah. Well, maybe it's a good night to get hammered."
Dan was well on his way to meeting that goal and nodded. He looked across the table at Tim's freckles and grinned. "So tell me, what do fairies do on Christmas Eve for fun? Party with Santa's elves?"
Tim grunted. "Caulk holes."
"C'mon, seriously. What does a gay man like you do for fun at Christmas?"
"We do the same thing straight guys do. We just have more fun at it."
"Such as?"
Tim shrugged. "Go out to eat. Go to Clubs. Dancing."
Dan shook his head. "No offense, but I gotta laugh when I think of you out on the dance floor prancing around with another guy. What about the baths houses? Perverted sex orgies?"
Tim's left eyebrow arched. "Well, yeah, there might be a few activities like that. I can show you if you're interested."
"You never know, one more beer and I might," said Dan, smirking.
"Yeah, right. You're so straight they probably used you in geometry class to draw lines on the black board."
The two men looked awkwardly at each other for a moment and before Tim stared down at the tabletop. He wiped his hand over his mouth and leaned back in his chair. "So, you must be feeling pretty lonely. Horned up, huh?"
"Horny doesn't capture it. I haven't been laid in six months, dude. I could hump a reindeer."
"You need some distraction, man. Maybe it's time you found yourself a girlfriend."
Dan's eyes darkened. "I don't think I want a girlfriend, dude. My last one left me high and dry."
"I know, Dan, I'm sorry."
"So am I, damn it."
In the midst of the awkward silence that followed, a sudden blast of wind rattled the window and there was an awful splintering noise, followed by a crash that made both men jump in their seats. The kitchen lights flickered off and on, and then went dark.
"What the fuck was that!?"
The two men went to the window and looked out. At the back of the yard a large tree branch was lying on the ground. It had taken a power line down with it.
"Shit! Another one like that and I might have to change my underwear," said Tim.
It was pitch dark in the kitchen now and the two men sat listening to the wind. It almost seemed as though the storm's energy was gathering itself up for another violent release.
"Better find a light," mumbled Dan, and made his way unsteadily to a drawer by the stove. He fumbled around until he found a candle and matches. Then he lit the candle and placed it on the counter where it cast a weak, wavering light against the walls. Tim came over and the two men stared at the candle like boys sitting around a campfire.
"Is there anything I can do for you, man? I'm serious," said Tim.
"No worries," said Dan, slurring his words slightly. "Still have plenty of beer."
"I didn't mean that kind of help."
"Well, you can fix the fucking lights," he said, laughing.
Another gust of wind rattled the windows. Hesitantly, for he seemed unsure of himself, Tim reached over and put a hand on the small of Dan's back.
Dan started. "Huh?"
Tim started to draw his hand away. "You're so stressed, I thought maybe you could use a little massage or somethin'" he said.
Dan stood motionless, staring at the candle's flame. When he finally spoke his voice was so soft it was almost inaudible. "It's okay. I don't mind."
Tim paused. "Sure?"
Dan silently nodded.
Carefully, as if walking on eggshells, Tim stood behind Dan and put his hands on his shoulders. He pressed his fingers against the base of Dan's neck and began to give him a gentle massage, kneading the muscles with his strong fingertips and thunmbs. Dan tensed and shuddered. He took a long, deep breath, then leaned against the counter and closed his eyes as Tim massaged him. "That feels pretty good," he whispered.
* * *
It had been so long since anyone had touched him! It felt strange to have a man's hands rubbing his shoulders, but the simple act of having physical contact with another human being made Dan want to cry out in gratitude. Before Ann died and left him all alone he didn't realize how much he needed to be touched. Tim's hands were large and strong, but they moved with such gentleness that it was impossible to think of them as the hands of a laborer. Tim's fingers moved up and down in gentle arcs along his back and shoulder blades, applying pressure in a soothing, sensual rhythm. It was a reassuring feeling.
"You're very tense. Try to relax," said Tim.
Dan knew he shouldn't let Tim touch him like this, but he couldn't bring himself to tell his young neighbor to stop, either. Strange thoughts began to flood into his head -- old memories that took him by surprise. As he listened to the wind, Dan remembered how jealous he was as a small child when he learned that some of his friends had brothers to play with. Dan was an only child and much of his youth was spent alone in his room, reading and drawing pictures, making up stories and wishing he had someone to share secrets with. It wasn't fair that other boys had brothers -- sometimes more than one -- while he didn't have any at all! One year his parents gave him a puppy for Christmas, but it wasn't the same thing as having a real brother. It seemed like he was always so lonely!
And Dan remembered the night when a schoolmate came to spend the night at his house and they went to his bedroom after dinner. They began to wrestle on the floor and took turns pinning each other on the carpet, testing their muscles and pressing their bodies together. It was fun and exhilarating! But Dan's stepfather, a cold and distant man, had heard the commotion and told them to stop. "Boys your age shouldn‘t play like that," his stepfather said. "People could get the wrong idea." Dan wasn't sure what was wrong, since he had seen grown men wrestling on TV, but he gathered that there must be something unhealthy or unacceptable about it. After that, he'd been wary of letting other boys get too close. Now, with Tim standing so near that he could feel his warm breath, Dan wondered what his step-father would say.
Was it really so wrong to do this? he wondered. Was it wrong for two men to enjoy each other's company and show affection in a physical way? If the lights came back on, should he and Tim pretend that nothing happened?
After several minutes Tim stopped massaging Dan's shoulders and the two men stood looking at each other by the kitchen counter. Half of Tim's face was in shadow, but the flame of the candle reflected in his eyes and looked like liquid fire. Dan's head was spinning. Tim's lips moved but Dan couldn't quite tell what he was saying.
"If you want to. . ." Tim was saying. ". . . help you relax . . . don't be embarrassed." Dan couldn't make out all the words.
Then Tim was touching him. The young man was getting down on his knees, tugging on Dan's belt. Dan tried to brush him away, but Tim was insistent. As Dan watched in befuddled amazement, Tim unzipped his trousers and let them fall to the floor, and then eased Dan's boxer shorts down over his hips and thighs. Dan felt cool air on his legs and Tim leaned forward. What was he going to do?
Tim bent down and took Dan's penis in his mouth.
"Ooogh!" Dan moaned.
He could hardly believe it! As he peered down, Tim's mouth engulfed his fat penis, pulling and stretching it out with gentle suction. His mouth felt deliciously warm. As the stimulation continued, his penis began to rise like a soldier coming to attention and Tim took it down his throat.
"Oh God!" said Dan, "Oh Jeezus, that feels good!"
In fact, Dan had never felt anything like it before. Ann had kissed him down there a few times, but she didn't like to take him into her mouth. Now a man was doing it and the sensation was indescribable, better than anything he'd imagined. It felt like his penis was being engulfed in warm liquid velvet.
Dan clutched at the counter. He swayed and stumbled as his ankles caught in his undershorts. Tim took him by the arm. "C'mon, let's go here into the living room," he directed.
With his erection bobbing stiffly in front of him, Dan kicked off his shorts and trousers and followed Tim into the living room and sat on the couch by the fireplace. It was chilly and Tim lit the gas logs in the fireplace. Then Tim got down on the floor to resume what he was doing in the kitchen, but first he pulled off Dan's shoes and socks and unbuttoned his shirt. Then he directed Dan to lean back in the couch and spread his legs. Dan's buttocks stuck to the cold leather seat as he parted his knees, but he obeyed. Then Tim put his face down to Dan's lap and took his penis into his mouth again, sucking gently at first, and then moving his head up and down in long, rhythmic strokes. Dan's organ was long and thick, but Tim took the whole thing into his throat down to the base. And while he sucked he reached between Dan's legs and cupped his scrotum in his hand, rolling the hairy balls gently back and forth in their soft sac.
Dan moaned and closed his eyes. Sexual pleasure rolled over him like ocean waves. It roiled below his belly where the root of his manhood grew from his body and washed over his naked thighs in swells. His crotch was bathed in soothing warmth and wetness, and in his reverie he dreamed of a beautiful young girl straddling his body, riding gently on his organ. But then he opened his eyes and saw his young neighbor with his lips intimately compressed around the head of his penis, and he gasped aloud at the sight. "Oh, Jeezus, Tim!" he exclaimed, pushing his fingers through the young man's soft curls. "Let me see you," he whispered. "Take off your clothes."
Compliantly, Tim unbuttoned his plaid shirt and stripped it off. Then he stood up and stripped off his jeans and pushed his white cotton briefs over his hips. In the dim light Dan could see his pale thighs and his manly erection bobbing up at a 45 degree angle from a tangle of dark hair between his legs.
"I never touched a man before," whispered Dan.
"It's no problem," said Tim. "You don't have to do anything."
But Dan found the young man's body strangely enticing and wanted to touch it. He reached out and stroked one finger along Tim's thigh, and when Tim came a little closer Dan placed a hand on one of Tim's ass cheeks and squeezed it. It felt warm and firm. The two men looked at each other. No words were spoken. Then, slowly, Dan brought his other hand up between Tim's legs and circled his fingers around the shaft of his penis. He tightened his fingers around the warm, hairy shaft and sighed. "So this is what it's like," he murmured.
At Dan's urging, Tim sat on the couch and the two men began to caress each other between the legs, stroking each other's erections and fondling each other's balls. Once he got over the strangeeness and embarrassment, Dan found this very comforting and pleasurable. "I never knew it could be this way," he whispered, pulling on Tim's cock.
"I tried to tell you," said the younger man, grinning. "You were too fucking uptight to listen."
As they comforted and pleasured each other with mutual fondling, Dan felt Tim's caressing fingers on other places on his body. He felt Tim's fingers run over his stomach and play gently with his nipples, which were very sensitive to touch. He felt a growing hunger inside. And then the hunger became an urgent need for release, and his hips moved involuntarily in rhythm to Tim's stroking fist. Tim saw that Dan was getting close to a climax.
"Let me finish you," whispered Tim, and slid off the couch onto his knees between Dan's legs. He leaned down to Dan's crotch and began to suck him again.
Dan's legs trembled and his stomach muscles contracted in a knot. His penis felt like a hard pole and he wanted to thrust it into Tim's mouth. As the alternate waves of pleasure and tension began to roll over him again, he silently ran his tongue over his lips. Suddenly his pelvis rose off the couch and with a loud groan he began shooting a heavy load of semen into Tim's mouth, thrusting his body as the liquid was expelled. His testicles were bursting with sperm and they slapped heavily against Tim's chin as his body jerked. Each contraction brought another forceful jet and a feeling of intense relief as it left his body. And Tim, tasting the hot jets in his mouth, emitted a deep growl of satisfaction, for he loved drinking seed and he rarely got such a flood as Dan was giving him. He gripped the base of Dan's penis in one hand and swallowed as much of the warm liquid as he could, milking it out of the big round head. Some of it dribbled down the shaft, and when the pulsing finally stopped he licked the shaft and the balls, savoring the musky taste until Dan went limp. After that he used his tongue to clean the sticky fluid from Dan's pubic hair as well, and Dan, completely spent, collapsed back into the couch.
The room was starting to get chilly. Tim got dressed and went into the bedroom to get a pillow and a blanket. He slid the pillow under Dan's head and tucked the blanket around Dan's legs. Then he went into the kitchen and found a pencil and a piece of paper and started to write a note. "Merry Christmas, Dan," he wrote. "many thanks for the nice present you gave me. Call me if you want, I'll be at home." He placed the note near the coffee maker where Dan would be sure to see it in the morning, then extinguished the candle. The house was quiet except for the sound of Dan's deep, steady breathing on the living room couch.
Tim opened the back door and let himself out. The ground crunched with snow and the air was frigid, but Tim had a smile on his face because he could still taste Dan's delicious semen. He knew it had been a long time for Dan because the seed left a thick coating in his mouth and had a strong, musky flavor that Tim loved. As he walked home, he noticed that the wind had died down and a pale moon was peeking though the misty clouds. Somewhere off in the distance he heard a lonely bird calling.
