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- 03/12/2015
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Snowflake: A Love Story - 2. Auburn Ski Camp: Introductions
~~~~~~
Brian
I pull in to the parking lot at the Auburn Ski Camp lodge.
I'm glad the parking's good and wide. My Land Rover is big and I hate 'compact' spaces. I usually have to take up two compact spaces, which pisses parking attendants off because it challenges their vast authority. Fucking idiocy. The parking companies always manage to hire complete douche nozzles as parking attendants. That's why they lose money from no one parking in their shit unless they absolutely have to.
The lodge is not what you would call attractive from the outside-- kind of brown painted clapboard. There's a ski museum attached that I've never visited. One of the buildings has a funny bell tower on top that looks like a church steeple. The place is actually more inviting at night with all the spotlights and big stadium-like overhead lighting for illuminating the groomed tracks. Its part of the Boreal Ski Resort, I think.
So I grab my gear and trudge through the flattened snow over to the front entrance to sign in. Inside is nicer. Kind of hunter's lodge-like with wood paneling, cushy sofas, oriental carpets, and mahogany furniture.
The concierge desk is manned by a young guy with dark brown hair and bright blue/green eyes. He is young, looks like he might be a freshman in college-- 18-21-- twinkish, cute. He's wearing some kind of fake snowsuit thing that is tight around his hips and chest. It has a kind of a cut-away jacket thing too. The pants show his ass off to great effect since they seem to be some kind of tight sheer cotton material. I catch that as he turns around to get my card key. Fucking tight mounds! I almost want to drag him bodily toward the prep room next to his boss' office. I don't, though. If I want a piece of that I can wait till he gets off from his shift so I can get him off from his cock. He looks tasty.
I ask if a Jessie Halla is around, as he is to be my ski instructor.
'Jimmy' (per his name tag) smiles and says: "Oh yeah! You mean Snowflake! He's over on the couch over there last I saw him. He's waiting for ya!" He points at a lounge area with sofas next to a raging fireplace. Jimmy has a big bright smile plastered on his face. It’s a little wider than necessary. I say thanks and favor him with a wink and a grin of my own. He blushes at that and kind of tosses his bangs with a jerk of his neck.
Yeah...totally gay. Jimmy wants it up the ass tonight. I can see that. We'll see.
So...'Snowflake' huh? Are you sure I didn't hallucinate my drive up here and I'm still back at QBar? I got to check the date on my poppers if that's so.
A bellhop takes my stuff up to my room, so I walk over to the fireplace with the two couches facing one another separated by a carved coffee table.
I look down into the couch that has had its back facing me as I'd walked up. I'm presented with two round globes in ultra-tight snow suit pants. Much tighter than Jimmy's even. That pert little bubble butt is attached to long delicate legs. Up a slim back, to my dismay, I see long blonde hair. *sigh* it’s just a girl.
She's managed to squeeze her slim hips between two strong legs spread akimbo. These legs are covered with what looks like real thermal material. Pure white. One boot attached to one leg is resting on the floor, the other is hooked rather awkwardly under the cheek of the girl's little ass. It gives the impression of a reversal of the missionary position. The girl's position over the other person's body is strangely masculine. She almost looks like she is about ready to hump the shit out of whoever is under her. Her blonde head is moving in a manner that looked like she is pretty much eating the other person's face. Except for legs and a couple of arms that seem to be flailing about, I can't really see the person being eaten alive.
I can't suppress a smirk as I see the situation. Even straight, two partners in the throes of slobbering lust is always hot. I hear moaning as the one on top starts grinding and the flailing arms of the bottom instinctively starts to reach for the rotating bubble butt above.
I could have just stood there, watching this dry fuck all evening, but...I wanted to get started and if the person under the grinding chick was 'Snowflake' then he is getting fucked on my time. If anyone is going to get fucked on my time it’s gonna be me!
"Ah-heemm," I clear my throat loudly.
The grinding stops abruptly and the top seems to sigh in frustration as I see her kind of strong shoulders heave. She moves her head out of the way to reveal the face of the bottom beneath and...my jaw fucking drops!
Sparkling, piercing gray eyes open slowly and fix on me. They seem lined with natural eyeliner because the lashes are so dark against the ultra pale skin that frames his eyes. The slightly arched eyebrows are almost white in color. The same color as the hair. The slightly spiky shock of hair on his head is pure platinum. I'd swear that the person is some kind of albino except there's enough color in the cheeks and on the lips to tell me this is a natural pigment. That..and the penetrating eyes. No albino has eyes that color.
His cheek bones are high and brows refined. The penetrating eyes are slightly slanted in their sockets giving the face an exotic appearance. The person has an almost feminine aspect...if indeed 'Snowflake' is a guy at all. Jimmy seems to think so. I think what gives away that he is a guy is his strong narrow jaw line and slightly dimpled chin.
He also kind of scans me from head to toe, his laser sharp gaze sticking to my package for a millisecond longer than the rest of my body. A pink tongue unconsciously flicks out and licks his sculpted upper lip and then disappears. At the same time his high cheeks are instantly touched with the most beautiful rosy blush I've ever seen.
I'd seen that look a million times. Dude is bi if nothing else and he wants a piece of this.
He is sharp too 'cause he caught me catching his leer and this makes him smirk slightly. What a fucking hot look. Probably the hottest "you got me" look I've ever seen. Just that slight twist of the lips gives me an unexpected shiver up my spine and makes my cock wanna instantly snake down my leg.
As a matter of fact, just on the face alone, I am convinced that I have just met the hottest motherfucking dude on the face of the earth!
Flummoxed a bit by the shock at seeing the hottest motherfucking guy on the face of the earth I manage to blurt a confirmation of who I am talking to:
"You Jessie?" I sound so unexpectedly crass for some reason. Where did my cool go?
My sudden self-consciousness gets stronger when I see Snowflake wince visibly a bit at the use of his first name. I think I didn't pronounce it right, maybe?
"Yes....Mr.....?" he asks as he sits up. He has this cool accent. I can't quite place it.
For the first time I get to see his girlfriend's face. Beautiful girl! Makes me sad for a second that I'm gay...then I see 'her' bulge. I managed to keep my knowing smile in check. I've had my share of she-males in my time....though none quite as gorgeous as this one. He'd pass for a girl anywhere, so long as he could tuck that weapon of mass destruction away. Her tits are astounding! Whoever did them must have been from Hollywood. They are perfect fun bags. Not too big and not too small. His look could have withered me if looks could kill, though. Boy...was he pissed. Ha!
Snowflake is sporting quite a bulge himself. I really must have interrupted something. I instantly want to finish him off. Snowflake's bod is hot as fuck and that's saying a lot coming from me! But...
Attempting to push aside all these 'gay' revelations, I merely introduce myself:
"My name is Brian Chesney. The guy over there said you are my new ski instructor."
~~~~~~
Snowflake
I regard Thor incarnate standing before me. So this is to be my new student? Remarkable!
I am fortunate that my erotic condition seems to be abating somewhat. The passing embarrassment is eased by Mr. Chesney's seeming appreciation of my situation. It is of interest that I see that he too has become aroused possibly by the sight of my being softly raped by Sebastian/Sabrina moments earlier.
So I stand and offer my hand. He takes it graciously and firmly. His grip is good! It is the grip of a practiced skier for certain. I return in kind, though the teacher in me can't resist pressing a challenge. I squeeze a little harder than he does, assuring him that I'm not at all the pretty boy pussy I may appear to be.
Men always underestimate me because of my looks, though my height often surprises them. I'm 6'4. As predicted, after rising to my full height, Mr. Chesney is also similarly surprised. He stands a fair 6'1 so it must be rather unusual for him to have to look up at someone to talk face to face.
"Hyvää päivää, Mr. Chesney. Good Afternoon!" I smile in greeting. It causes Mr. Chesney to blush. Awww!
"My name is Jossë Halla. Yes, I will be your cross-country ski instructor for the length of your stay here." I make it something of a point here to pronounce my given first name 'Yosseyh' so as to keep it correct, but I do not emphasize it. I do not want to put Mr. Chesney off at this our first meeting.
"Most folks just call me Snowflake as that is basically what I've been called all my life. Please take your ease, Mr. Chesney!" I chuckle a bit as I gesture to the sofa opposite. This seems to put him in a more settled mood.
"'Snowflake' huh?" He asks with a slightly sarcastic tone. I sense a shift in our social positioning. He is regaining his somewhat dominant attitude. The one he must have walked in with. The one that has had little Jimmy mincing about in a daze behind the concierge desk ever since Mr. Chesney arrived and talked to him. Silly boy. His eyes have not left Mr. Chesney since that brief encounter. Jimmy is practically drooling.
I have to admit, Mr. Chesney's machismo has a sexy edge to it that I don't get from a lot of the college boys that I usually have to put up with. His seems genuine, like he could back up that strut with some real action, not just talk. Very intriguing.
It is at this point that I notice that Sabrina is taking her leave. She gives me a quick hug and a kiss and nods a terse greeting at Chesney. She turns on her heel and makes a bee line back to the concierge desk where she is immediately accosted by Jimmy with a 1001 questions about my new student. Hehehehe!
I turn and see Mr. Chesney still has his eyes fixed on me and is totally ignoring the masterpiece that is Sabrina's ass. He's sitting back either admiring me or sizing me up or both.
I regain my seat. He tracks my every move with that penetrating wolf-like stare. Brian Chesney is indeed a predator. A real top if ever I met one. I long ago picked him up on my....is it called 'gaydar'? Strange phrase, though very apt.
"Yes. I was nicknamed 'Lumihiutale' back home. Most Americans find that impossible to pronounce so it basically translates as Snowflake." I explain agreeably.
He regards me a second, sucking on his teeth. I swear any minute he'll be over and at me with my throat in his wolf-like jaws.
He responds with more tact than I though him capable of: "Seems legit. Seems appropriate for a ski instructor. I'm sure there's a story behind it." I'm not sure if it’s an invitation to reveal more about myself or if it is just him feigning interest out of politeness. In any case, I have a rule: 'quid pro quo. I tell you and you tell me'. That way we establish balance. As time goes on I learn more about my student so that I can help him or her. They are usually astonished with what I know about them at the end of their training.
That's the way I like it. So....
"Oh, yes. But I should not bore you with it now. Perhaps another time. What about you? I know you are into cross-country and that you would like to learn more of the 'skate style'. Are you interested in competing?"
"Yeah...maybe. If I learn good enough to do it. I'm pretty good, but I could be a lot better," he says. Amazing mix of coyness, confidence, and humility. I think I like this guy...though he's awfully cagey. I also sense a barb in there somewhere. Hehehehe!
"That's up to you, Mr. Chesney. If you have the talent and the ability...and most importantly....the drive I can help you become a champion on the snow." I say this without the least bit of vainglory. This I can do. I know how to do it. I have shaped champions before. Having been one, I know what it takes. I also know that 'Yeah...maybe' needs to change to ' Yeah...I will'.
Chesney looks at me with a mix of admiration and skepticism. I cannot blame him. I am an unknown entity. To him I must have been a name pulled from a hat. But, I know who it was that set up our little 'date'. It was of course Margery at Ski Vacations a Go-Go in San Francisco. Very cunning that one. She read Mr. Chesney like an open book. I am not an easy referral. She insisted I meet this one. So I am doing so now. She was correct. I can't help but be attracted to this man...on many levels.
He is the consummate American. Put him in chaps and a cowboy hat and he'd be a plains hero saving the townsfolk from marauding bandits. Hmmm...chaps and a cowboy hat. Such prurient ideas might make Sabrina jealous. Hehehe!
But more importantly, I see steel in his eyes. I see an echo of an old lineage. Explorers, pioneers, homesteaders, gold rushers, Union or Confederate soldiers, Revolutionaries...Laplanders. Blonde hair does not lie. Somewhere...sometime...a Norseman gave him those genetics. It could be my job to awaken in Brian Chesney things about himself he never knew existed.
I will make him worthy to ski with me in the white lands of my birth.
Chesney smiles a smile that squeezes my heart. Those bright, perfect teeth behind succulent pink lips. Laugh-lines, well used, crinkle around his cobalt eyes.
And in that uniquely terse American way that speaks volumes, Brian Chesney makes his commitment to me and to what would become his new vocation:
"Deal!" says he.
strong>Thanks again for reading.
~hugs~
~hugs~
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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