The snow is still falling... and falling - no end in sight. For a week now, or maybe it's only been a few days. No matter, it seems like a fucking eternity cooped up in this small cabin in the middle of a mountainous nowhere, essentially stranded, away from all signs of human life.

Well, 'cept for Mike, of course. Yeah, Mike is here to keep me company, but Mike is pissed. The fuckhead hasn't said two words to me in days. Like it's my fault we're stuck here - fuck! This was all his idea. Skiing, he says - yeah right - what the fuck?! I just wanna go home.

This actually wouldn't be so bad if I had a chick with me. Like that Polly chick, the one with those huge tits. Yeah, that would make time pass a bit quicker. God, I'm horny.

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I'm gonna kill that little shit if he doesn't stop moping around here like a fucking five-year-old - the fuck's his problem anyway? Micky really needs to learn how to relax. I'd like to teach him that lesson. Yeah, I'd make it a lesson he'd never forget. Hmm...

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"Where you goin'?" Micky barked.
"Chop more firewood. I need some exercise."
"Its a blizzard out there."
"So."
"We've got wood."
"So. What's the matter, Mick? Scared of the boogie man?"
"Fuck you, Mike."
That broke Mike into hysterics, "Ha-ha! Damn, you're feisty today." Mike laughed as he began to get into his snow gear, just a thin coat and scarf, but who expected a fucking blizzard?
"You can't go out like that. You'll freeze to death, Mike."

Mike stood at the front door, wool scarf hanging around his skinny neck, giving each hand something to grab on to so his arms wouldn't have to hold up their own weight. He looked liked he was choking himself, or getting ready to hang from the rafters. The sight before him was too good to turn away from. Micky sitting there in that girly position, both long legs tangled to his right. He looked so uncomfortable. Why couldn't he cross his legs like a normal person? But the fire blazing to his left danced beautifully on his pouting face, and this cold weather left his usual mop of frizz shiny and perfectly curled. Yes, what a sight, Mike thought.

"Okay, Mick. I'll stay. But you have to make it worth my while."
"What does that mean?"
"Oh, I don't know," Mike smiled, "I'll think of somethin'." And he casually strolled over to the little shit to stand in front of him, positioning himself so Micky could get a good look at Mike's gorgeousness, all ten inches of it. He knew how well these old, tight Levi's showed off his best assets, that's why he'd never throw them out. No matter how torn or tattered, they always impressed the ladies.

Mick was a different story though. He was no lady - girly, yes, but not a chick. No, Mike would have to play this one a little differently, but Mike loved a challenge and this would be a nice shiny prize if he could pull it off. No, he *would* pull it off, of that he had no doubt.

He looked down at Micky, his crotch five inches from the little shit's face. Micky tilted his head slightly upward to look Mike in the eyes, and now his mouth was about two inches, give or take. From Mike's perspective Micky looked like a little boy getting ready for a spanking by his daddy, his eyes wide with uncertainty and his mouth slightly open from surprise, ready, inviting. Beautiful, Mike thought. And that intense sight rushed straight to his cock, making it look even more impressive. He gave Micky a big smile of self-satisfaction which must have been too much for the little shit cause he turned his head away toward the fire and he grabbed a long twig from the wood pile so he could poke around in the fireplace.

Then Mike had a thought. He walked over to the kitchen area and opened the single cabinet. Not much in there. He moved a couple of soup cans out of the way - Crisco. That would do. He grabbed the small can and put it on the floor next to the couch. He wouldn't hide it. Why bother? God, how cocky, he thought as he swaggered over to sit beside Micky on the rug in front of the fire.

Micky didn't move;, only the hand that held the twig showed any sign of life. He looked sad and lonely, adorable. Mike almost felt sorry for him. He understood Micky better than anyone, how he hated to be alone, how he needed constant interaction with people despite his shyness. Well, Mike would have to do, for now.

"Fuck. I'm so bored, Mike."
"Yeah, I know, babe."
"I wanna get out of here."
"Well, ya can't."
"I know." Micky groaned in defeat.
How cute, Mike thought. "What can I do to make you feel better, Mick?"
"I don't know. Nothing, I guess."
"Nothing? You sure?"
"What do you mean, Mike? What the fuck do you want from me?" an exasperated Micky asked.
"Hmm, let's see." Mike growled as he took the twig from Micky's hand - just an excuse really, he only wanted the hand, so he didn't let it go. "Your hand's frozen, Mick."
"It's fucking cold in here. What do you expect?"
"Well, I'm nice and warm." Ohh! Mike could hardly believe he actually used that cheap line. Luckily, Micky was oblivious to Mike's intentions. He really didn't have a clue. Amazing! Here Mike was, holding Micky's hand, and the little shit found it perfectly natural, completely unsuspecting. How could he possibly be so innocent, so stupid? It only added to his charm and fuelled Mike's arousal.

He wanted him now, but didn't want to scare Micky away. No, take it slow, Mike. Not that there was anyplace Micky could go, but still, he didn't want to create an enemy. Not when he wanted to fuck the living shit out of him.

Mike finally shoved that damn stick into the fire so he could hold Micky's empty hand. It was sweaty now, and warm.

Micky sat like a statue, unable to move a muscle. He wasn't sure what Mike was doing, but something didn't seem right. It didn't seem bad, just... odd. But this was Mike, and he trusted him more than anyone. More important was his admiration for that tall Texan, and more than anything else, he wanted Mike to like him, and well, just not think he's stupid. Truth was, Mike scared the shit out him. Micky was no wuss, but when it came to Mike he felt like a shrivelled up little boy, unable to compete with a real man. God knows why. Mike wasn't anything that special, was he? No, he just acted that way, and under that tough, Texan exterior Micky knew there was a gentle caring person, or at least, he hoped there was. There had to be, cause Mike could be funny and playful too, and that was the Mike Micky liked best.

Micky didn't want to look at Mike's face right now. He didn't want to see which Mike was here with him holding his hand, so he sat silently and waited for a clue.

It was easy to see that Micky was getting a little uncomfortable, and Mike didn't want that. So he put on his most appealing face: Using the sparking fire to his advantage he angled his head just so to capture the reflection in his dark bedroom eyes. He relaxed every facial muscle for a softer look, and then added a touch of sympathy to his expression, followed by a dash of sex appeal he achieved by wetting his lips and pouting them to their fullest. Oh, he was good, and he knew it, but he didn't want to appear phony because he wasn't. He'd never felt more sincere in his life.

With his face at the ready, Mike put a delicate finger on Micky's chin and forced his head to turn in his direction. He starred into his eyes and couldn't get the image of a deer caught in the headlights from his mind. That's what Micky looked like, shocked, a little scared maybe, and something else Mike couldn't quite put his finger on.

There was no turning back now though. Micky was waiting for some kind of explanation, or a sign from the gods to tell him what to do. It was a little frightening, Mike had to admit, and a little thrilling which was what kept him going. He had to know how the story would end, and he'd find out with his next move. In the next split-second he'd know if he would get laid tonight, or if he'd turned another friend against him with disgust. The moment was too exciting to let go, and he savored it as he leaned in close to touch Micky's lips with his.

Micky still didn't move. He could've been a corpse for all Mike knew, except that he was warm, on fire warm, like he had a fever warm, and he could feel a definite pulse in his lips as he pressed a little harder. He let his hand slide to the back of Micky's head, taking a fistful of curls so he could position him any way he wanted.

Micky did nothing. He was too scared to move, too confused, too aroused. It was as if he'd always wanted this, though he never did, at least, not that he was aware of. His body was on automatic, it wasn't listening to the incoherent nonsense that was streaming through his mind, and it rendered him paralyzed. His heart pounded so loudly in his ears that he became deaf to anything outside himself. It was just one little kiss. How could Mike do this to him with just one kiss? And why was he allowing it?! He wouldn't. He'd stop it. Just as soon as he could gain back control of his senses, he'd stop it... yeah, any minute now.

Mike backed away. He wanted to give Micky a chance to end it now before it went too far. He had to, or he might lose Micky for good. But Micky's face showed no sign of the disgust Mike was worried about, nor did it show any disapproval or fear. The face before him was the image of an angel, or maybe it was a demon looking for a little mischief. Maybe a little of both. Whatever it was, this wasn't the face of the little shit cursing him out only a few minutes ago. This face wasn't Micky, and Mike found it a little unnerving. He also found it incredibly sexy, and before Micky could change his mind, Mike swooped in again. This time with no restraint, releasing some of that unspent passion he'd been building up.

To his surprise, and delight, Micky did the same. He actually kissed back this time, his way of telling Mike it's okay, keep going, I trust you. He even relaxed his lips to let Mike's tongue crawl through his mouth. And what a mouth, Mike observed, just as he'd always imagined, big, roomy, wet, hot. This was a mouth that was built for action, made to order, you might say. If someone prayed for the perfect blowjob delivery system, then this was god's answer to every man with a dick. Question was, how would Mike get this thing around his own dick? Would Micky go that far? Suddenly, Mike had his next quest, the next chapter in the Micky adventure series. He had to try. The sheer thought gave him a hard-on like no other before it and he could feel his jeans getting painfully tight around him, that was such a great feeling. It was the feeling of expectation, the feeling of knowing what's to come if everything goes right.

He slipped his hands under Micky's oversized wool sweater, ahh, skin. Burning hot, soft and humid, just begging to be touched. Micky almost collapsed under him, falling on his back, weak from the shooting pangs of ecstasy, the kind you get from that first touch, when you can feel it from head to toe, when it's almost better than coming itself. And Mike knew he had him where he wanted him. God, what a fucking slut. Micky was so easy.

Maybe Mike had misjudged. Maybe he'd actually done this before. Who cared? Mike didn't need to be the first, just the best.

He inched his mouth across Micky's face, stopping to nibble an earlobe, and then down his long neck, kissing every new spot he encountered. With one large hand, he found Micky's crotch and felt the rock beneath his pants. It felt too big, actually, and for a second Mike wondered if Micky stuffed a sock down there. He'd find out soon enough. He nimbly unbuttoned, unzipped and unclasped anything that got in his way, and there it was. It felt real, anyway.

He was ready for what was next on his agenda, more than ready. First, he'd show Mick how it was done. Then, hopefully, Micky would follow his lead. If not, well, then it was on to plan B. Mike always had a plan B, no surprises that way, always prepared for the unexpected.

He lifted his body off of Micky who still seemed paralyzed except for the heavy breathing, and looked into his eyes. Maybe it was time to make sure Micky wasn't freaking out. "You doin okay, Mick?"
"Huh? Yeah, Mike. I'm fine."
"Then stopping would be out of the question, right?"
"No. I don't want you to stop."
"You ever done this before, Mick?"
"Done what?"
"Nothin. Forget it."
"Mike?"
"Yeah."
"I think my dick's gonna explode."
"Well, hold on, there, shotgun. We'll take care of that."

Mike got up on his knees to look over the situation. "Pretty impressive, Mick. Kind of an odd shade of purple, but not too shabby."
"Gee, thanks, Mike."
"Don't mention it," were Mike's last words, and he reached down to get Micky out of his pants so he could get to work.

It really was a very nice penis, smooth, circumcised, of course, not huge, but certainly a respectable size, and perfectly round balls framed it for a nice proportioned effect. Yes indeed, Mike was gonna enjoy this. He positioned himself comfortably so he wouldn't tire too quickly, and spread Micky's legs apart so he could have full access to anything he might need - always thinking ahead, that was Mike. He lowered his head enough so his tongue could get a little play in before the main event started, but he had to get those cute little round balls in his mouth first. He rolled his tongue around the left one, then the right, yes, both at once would fit, no problem, and then he thought he heard a moan.

He let Micky's stiff cock slap the side of his face and lightly grazed his teeth against it as he moved his mouth upward, as if to scold it for being bad. Then he took a deep breath and opened wide letting Micky feel the inside of his mouth in one quick move. He ran his tongue around and around while lowering his head more and more. Micky began to move under him, trying to fuck his mouth, but Mike wouldn't allow that. Nope, this boy needed to learn some patience. He'd just have to wait. He held Micky's hips down with one hand expertly placed on his pubic bone; the other hand was busy fondling those cute balls while his middle finger waited to make its entrance.

Micky wasn't going to hold on much longer. It'd be a miracle if Mike could get in a few good sucks. So without further ado, Mike gave Micky what he was aching for. With a few quick head bobs and a good seal around his lips, Mike went in for the kill. Micky moaned with each thrust of Mike's mouth. He grabbed tight handfuls of the tacky shag carpet they were lying on and arched his back high off the floor. He was coming, hard, and Mike was ready with a strong suck and that waiting finger. And he swore he heard Micky actually sob. Wow, that would be great. He couldn't remember if he'd ever brought anyone to tears before.

Then he decided to add a second finger in preparation for what was to come - better now than later, he thought. Yeah, that was definitely a virgin ass, way too tight to have ever seen any real action. Oh, sweet joy, Mike thought, and decided to go straight to plan B while the pickings were ripe. Before Micky could recover, Mike quickly moved to that Crisco he left at just an arm's reach. Micky's ass was greased so fast, he didn't know what hit him - he was glowing in that after-sex-daze, completely relaxed and ready for anything. Mike bet he could probably get him hard again with minimal effort, not that he needed to, but he wanted Micky to enjoy this.

Mike pulled down his jeans and looked at his own hard-on. God, he loved to admire it in this state. He checked Micky's face; he looked like he was falling asleep, eyes closed, still panting. This would wake him up. He moved his finger slowly, in and out, searching for that sweet spot, and with each pass he could see Micky's limp dick start to come back to life. He lowered his lips and added a finger, and he got a moan from above. Light, barely there kisses were all he needed for a reaction. A third finger later and Micky's eyes popped open in slight distress, but his stiff cock signalled otherwise.

"Mike?"
"Yeah, Mick?"
"I trust you."

What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Mike wondered. Was that some kind of warning? A threat? He stopped what he was doing and crawled up Micky's body to look at his pretty face. He leaned down and kissed his lips before saying, "I know you do, Mick." Then he let his body rest on Micky's, their two hard cocks between them, and he kissed him again, and again. He tasted so good, his scent so delicious, and he wanted it so badly. He must be in heaven.

He didn't want to stop the kissing, but his cock was aching and he desperately wanted inside that sweet ass. He tore himself away from Micky's lips and pressed the head of his well-oiled cock against that tiny entrance and pushed ever so slightly. He was wellcomed inside with a wonderful warmth, and that sensation that only comes from the tightest of virgin asses. He wanted to dig in deep, but controlled himself to savor the moment. Then he slid himself in further, and like a well worn glove, he was enveloped perfectly.

Micky let out a little gasp. He was being touched in places he didn't know existed, and when Mike went deeper, he saw stars. He was so far inside him, and he could feel every inch. It was glorious, it was exciting, and if Mike thrust into him one more time, he thought he'd burst. But Mike did, and he didn't, not yet anyway. He grabbed handfuls of that shag carpet again - god, he loved shag! It's the only carpet with a purpose! His mind was wandering as started to come for the second time.

Mike was getting ready too. He wrapped his hand around Micky's cock, wanting him to have the best orgasm he'd ever had. Oh, if he could only reach that mouth, and when he tried, he found that Micky was so skinny and apparently so limber, that just before they both came he was able to kiss those lips as he pounded his way home.

He let himself loose, and concentrated all his attention on kissing those sweet soft lips. And Micky wrapped his arms around Mike's body to pull him in close and kissed him back with every ounce of passion he had in him.

The weight of Mike's warm body felt so good on top of him, with his perfect mouth kissing him, and his beautiful long black hair brushing over his face. He never wanted it to end. Thank god there was that blizzard outside. Maybe they could stay like this till the Spring thaw.