pleasure of fondling. I knew that I was pretty well endowed myself, and though his cock was really not much bigger, it was thick at the base unlike any cock I had seen or felt. There was a massive flaring out from that base foundation, and in the snow-lit room, I could see and instinctively knew that this was a prick to be worshipped. I loved playing with it, strong and demanding.

His hand found my hard-on just as quickly as I had found his, and he expressed his approval by telling me that it was “impressive”. Not many more words were exchanged as we lay there playing with each other’s cock and balls. When he leaned over to go down on me, I was ecstatic. I nudged him around, and he got the idea that I wanted to 69 with him and we found an agreeable position to suck each other. I don’t know who came first, but we both drained out a load before we shifted positions again, feeling the cold chill air after the heat of the sexual passion. We pulled the blankets over us, lying close.

I got the speech that I was expecting as soon as we settled down, that this should not have happened and could never be known by anyone, and all those admonitions. All the while he was giving the lecture, I was fondling his cock, and by the time he had said all he wanted to say, he was hard again, and he called me “incorrigible” as we lay there and jacked each other off. At some point, we slept. And outside, it snowed and it snowed.

When we woke the next morning, it was not to the bright sunlight that often occurs after a heavy snowstorm, but rather to the ominous gray clouds of more bad weather coming. Coach suggested that we do a quick shower together in the tiny shower stall, anticipating that there would be some hot water in the tank, but likely not much. He was right, there was a bit of hot water, and we did fit inside the cramped shower but only if we held onto each other’s hard cock. I was ready to blow another load, but he talked me out of it. But we did play with hard dick until the water started to run luke-warm and then cold, and then we got out and shivered as we pulled on clothes.

We made our way to the little office where the landlords were holding court with the other stranded guests who had gathered there, listening to the transistor radio. We were pretty cut off from anything. The manageress had made a breakfast that was highly satisfying, from her little camp-fire stove, and there was sufficient heat from the kerosene heater for all of us to huddle around and to muse upon our situation. There were more storms coming, and there was little we could do about it. We were on a state road, six miles from the Interstate, and we were at the mercy of the road crews and the snowplows with little hope that we were going to be a priority. We stayed in the motel office until after a little lunch had been served to us, and then Coach and I drifted back to our room. Nap time.

Nude on the bed, with blankets pulled around us, we jacked and played for what seemed like hours, edging again and again and then again, until it was almost painful to hold off.