That Man 3

by Nelle L’Amour

  Shortly after breakfast, my father shrugged on his heavy alpaca coat. “We’re going to visit the Joneses.” It was a tradition. Every Christmas day for as long as I could remember, my parents stopped by their best friends’ house for an exchange of presents and a little grog. Dad looked my way. I was seated on the living room couch next to Blake, cuddling my snow tiger. I longed to be cuddling him.

  “Why don’t you two kids relax and romp in the snow,” he said, buttoning up his coat.

  “Are you sure, Dad?” I asked as my mother joined him. She looked positively stunning in the cherry red wool coat she wore only on Christmas. The heavy snow boots on her feet only accentuated everything lovely above them.

  “Of course, darling,” chimed in my mother.

  With a wink targeted at Blake, my dad told us to have fun.

  *

  It was the perfect first snow of the winter. Three feet deep and powdery. Our house—in fact, the entire street, looked like a Hallmark Christmas card—with the trees and rooftops dusted with a thick layer of the pearl white powder. The temperature was cold, but not unbearable, and the sun was shining brightly, creating a glare from the snow.

  Bundled up in waterproof winter gear, Blake and I wasted no time frolicking in my backyard. I beat him to it and threw a snowball at him. I got him good in the chest.

  “You’re going to pay for that, McCoy,” he growled. Wasting no time, he retaliated and got me hard in the ass as I tried to escape.

  “That hurt,” I giggled.

  “Not as much as this one,” he shouted back at me, throwing yet another ready made one straight at me. Hah! This time I ducked behind a tree, and he missed.

  Our snowball fight escalated until we were out of breath and doubled over with laughter. Blake wrapped his arms around me from behind and nuzzled the little exposed area of my scarf-shrouded neck. “Come on. Let’s build a snowman.”

  “Cool.” Crouching, I instantly formed a snowball and began packing it with snow. Blake squatted down and followed suit. Side by side, we rolled our snowballs across the dense white powder. In no time, we built three giant but different sized snowballs as well as built up a sweat beneath our heavy clothes. Blake stacked the three weighty balls, one on top of the other. I scouted the yard for anything we could use to make a face—coming up with a few chunks of coal and twigs for his arms. Blake topped him off with his silly reindeer hat, stretching it over Mr. Snowman’s head until it almost ripped. I couldn’t stop laughing.

  “Too bad we don’t have a carrot for his nose,” I snorted through my tears of laughter.

  “Too bad we don’t have a cucumber for his dick,” laughed my companion. I laughed harder, so hard my face hurt.

  And then, without warning, Blake collapsed onto the snow-covered ground, flat on his back with his arms outstretched. His eyes were glued shut.

  “Blake!” Panic gripped me. Maybe he’d had a heart attack or something. All that shoveling and those heavy snowballs. Ridden with guilt and despair, I fell to my knees beside him. My fingers raked his hair. “Blake, Blake, are you okay? Please be okay.”

  There was no response. Oh, God. He was going to die in my backyard. If he died, a part of me died too. At that moment, I realized how much I really, really loved him.

  “Blake,” I pleaded again, “please open your eyes. I love you so much.” A tear fell onto his lips. I pressed my lips against his and kissed it away. Oh, God. Was this going to be the last time his soft lips touched mine?

  Then suddenly, magically, just like in Snow White, his eyes fluttered open. The power of a kiss! “Gotcha!” he laughed.

  I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I was at once relieved and furious with him.

  “That wasn’t funny,” I scoffed, tossing a handful of snow at him.

  I still wasn’t over his little prank when he began to repeatedly open and close his arms and legs in tandem. It was if he was doing jumping jacks lying down in the snow.

  “What are you doing, you crazy man?”

  “Seriously? I’m making a snow angel. Don’t tell me you’ve never made one.”

  “Are you kidding? My parents would never let me lie down in the snow.”

  “Come. Let’s make one together. Get on top of me.”

  Hesitantly, I did as bid, positioning my body so my arms and legs were directly on his outstretched ones. My chin rested on his chest, and even beneath his heavy down jacket, I could feel his heart beat for me.

  “Perfect. Now just follow my movements.” He began to scissor his arms and legs again, and as he opened and closed them, I did the same with mine. Wow! This was fun.

  As we got into a rhythm, it was more than just his heartbeat I felt. Beneath my torso, I could feel an erection pressing into me. His cock was hardening and swelling. Holy shit!

  “Having you on me this way is giving me a fucking hard-on. Tiger, let’s show this dickless snowman what he’s really missing.”

  My eyes grew as round as saucers. “You want to fuck in the snow?”

  “Yep.”

  “You’ll freeze your ass off.”

  “No, I’ll fucking freeze my ass off. Now, pull down your pants.”

  Raising myself a little, I managed to somehow to slide my snow pants—and my tights—down enough to give him entry. The cold air stung my buttocks.

  His arms and legs continued to slice the snow. “Now, pull down my fly and put my cock inside you.”

  With one hand, I reached into the tight space between us and did as he asked. Holy cow! He’d gone Commando. I could feel the heat of his cock through my gloves, and as I inserted it into me, its hotness contrasted sharply to the coldness of the air. I moaned into his chest.

  “Oh, baby, you’re like a fucking oven,” he breathed as he filled me to the hilt.

  I moved my arms back onto his, and we went back to making our snow angel, opening and closing our limbs, wider and faster, as he pounded into me, keeping pace. Harder and deeper. Faster and faster. The melody of “Jingle Bells” echoed in my head. Oh what fun, it is to ride your cock in the deep white snow and play.

  Despite the frigid temperature, my body was heating up. I could feel sweat beading on my skin beneath my heavy clothes. My chin rested on his chest and I gazed up at him. The expression on his glowing face was one of pure ecstasy. My fingers clasped his wrists like manacles so I wouldn’t fall off, and my legs pressed firmly against his powerful muscular thighs. I was sure we were melting the snow.

  “Oh, tiger,” he groaned. “I’m so fucking close to coming.”

  “Me too,” I moaned. The pulsing in my core rose to a feverish pitch. I was like a volcano ready to erupt. I roared his name as I climaxed around him. Waves of white bliss, as blinding as the snow, spiraled through me. In a breath, I felt him jolt with his own volcanic eruption, his hot molten lava pouring into me.

  I rested my head against his chest for a few long minutes until our breathing calmed down. My stinging, frozen ass brought awareness back to me.

  “Blake, that was amazing.”

  He blew out of puff of air. “Yeah, fucking amazing.” A boyish dimpled grin lit up his handsome face. “Come on, tiger, let’s see how our snow angel turned out. We may have fucked it up.”

  Giggling at his double entendre, I got into a squatting position between his spread out, V’d legs. Definitely not my most graceful move. He sat up and then helped me stand up with him. As I pulled my snow pants and tights up over my butt, I watched as he tucked his spent dick into his pants and zipped up his fly. Snow pants were not the most flattering things to wear, but on him, they looked sinfully sexy because I knew what was beneath.

  “Look!” A warm smile spread across his face as his vision took in our creation. “I’m going to take a picture.” He whipped out his ubiquitous iPhone from a jacket pocket while I stared at the snow angel we’d created together in awe.

  “Oh my God!” I rasped. Where our arms had flapped madly, there were wings, and below, a bell-shaped gown was etched in the snow
from the movement of our legs. To my utter amazement, around the imprint of our heads, the sun cast a halo. Our beautiful angel! Heaven on Earth! Magic! Pure magic! Tears spilled from my eyes.

  “Don’t cry on me again,” whispered Blake, removing a glove to wipe them away.

  “I can’t help it,” I sniffed. “An angel is watching us.”

  “You are my angel.” And with that, he crashed down on my mouth with a hot, passionate kiss while Mr. Snowman looked on with envy.

  Chapter 8

  Blake

  We warmed each other up by taking a hot bath together. Jennifer sat between my legs, her back toward me. Happy to see the necklace I’d given her around her neck, I intermittently sponged her and covered her with kisses. But something was weighing on my mind.

  “Jen, I didn’t use a condom outside.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s the first time I’ve never used one. I should have told you I’ve been tested and asked if you were on birth control.”

  “I am.”

  I inwardly sighed with relief and nuzzled her neck. She lifted her ponytail to give me better access.

  “Blake, I’ve never had sex without a condom either.”

  So, we had shared firsts. Sex with Jennifer was incredible. I didn’t think it could get better. Fucking her in the snow was the best sex I’d ever had. I could still feel her raw warmth against my own heated rawness. The feeling of spilling into her and feeling her pussy throb all around me had sent me flying to the moon. My cock swelled at the sweet memory. Pulling her tight against me, I wondered—had it been as good for her as it was for me?

  One word from her mouth gave me my answer. “Again.”

  *

  After our mind-blowing tub sex, we dressed in jeans and sweaters and headed downstairs. Jen made us lunch—ham and cheese sandwiches—and we cuddled up together on the living room couch to watch some TV.

  “Oh, Blake! The SpongeBob Christmas episode is on,” she squeed after channel surfing.

  I remembered her mentioning at my parents’ Shabbat dinner that SpongeBob SquarePants was her favorite cartoon. It had become apparent to me she was obsessed with this animated dude. She’d even written her master’s thesis on him. On his sexual appeal of all things. As stupid as this may sound, I was jealous of some dumbass cartoon character. What does he have that I don’t? I needed to know.

  “Why do you like SpongeBob so much? I mean, he’s a total spineless geek who looks like a wedge of Swiss cheese on legs. He probably doesn’t even have a dick.”

  She hit me with a pillow. “Don’t talk about SpongeBob that way. He’s funny, sweet, and innocent. And has a big heart. He always sees the good in people despite their faults. He’s a virgin, holding out for the right woman. His Sandy. That’s what makes him appealing. Give him a chance, Mr. Burns.”

  Thirty laugh-out-loud minutes later, I was a SpongeBob convert. Call me gay. I loved the goofy little guy. But I loved my little tiger now even more as if more was possible. Had I not been afraid of her parents bursting through the front door, I would have fucked her senseless on the couch and smothered her with kisses.

  After watching the cartoon, Jennifer had an idea. She wanted to give me a mini-tour of Boise. Taking my Jeep, we passed by Boise State where her dad had taught and then headed downtown. After en­thus­iastical­ly pointing out various sites, Jen grew pensive.

  I lowered the sound of the radio and asked, “What are you thinking about, tiger?”

  She twitched a half-smile. “You.”

  I smiled back and tugged at her adorable knit cap. “That’s always a good thing.”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “What do you mean?” My voice was edgy. Fuck. Was she having doubts about our relationship?

  “I’m worried about how we’re going to handle things. We work together. You’re my boss. And there’s no way I can keep it a secret from my roommate Libby, who has the biggest mouth in the world.”

  I chewed my lip. To be honest, I hadn’t give much thought to the future. Except she was in it. She had a point. We needed to figure out how to handle the situation at work. I’d never had an office affair. And this was beyond an affair.

  After much deliberation, I responded. “I’m going to talk to my father. He’ll know what to do.”

  Jennifer nodded. “That’s a good idea. I guess I’ll tell Libby.”

  I wasn’t too crazy about her tell-Libby-tell-the-world friend. She was such a know-it-all. “How do you think she’ll react?”

  To my utter surprise, Jen burst out laughing. “Not too well. She thinks you’re a self-centered, arrogant asshole.”

  “Screw her.” My blood was boiling. “She doesn’t know me the way you do.”

  Her laughter deepened. “For your information, Mr. Burns, you actually can be a self-centered, arrogant asshole but—”

  Before she could finish her sentence, I pulled off the road with a screech.

  “You’re pissing me off.”

  She was not the least bit intimidated. “You didn’t let me finish my sentence.”

  My forehead creased as her face softened.

  “I was going to say: but I love you so much anyway. Now get over here.” Grabbing the edges of my scarf, she yanked me toward her. Her lips went down on mine with a wild, spontaneous kiss that she deepened with her tongue. She tasted like warm sugar. So, so good. We moaned into each other’s mouths. The little tease rubbed my cock. It stirred beneath the denim of my jeans and grew rigid. Fuck. I needed her to give me head. Desperately.

  Just as I reached for my fly, there was a loud rapping on my passenger door window. I abruptly pulled away from Jen. Able to see who was outside the door, she pressed her lips together as if she was stifling laughter. I pivoted my head and could feel my face turn candy-cane red. Balls. It was a cop. I thought they didn’t work on Christmas. I quickly lowered my window.

  “Hello, officer,” I said with as much coolness as I could muster.

  He furrowed his brows. “Is there a problem here?”

  “N-no,” I stuttered. Bullshit. There was a problem. A biggie. My cock and balls were fucking killing me.

  He flashed a crooked smile. “Good. Then, I’ll be on my way. Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas, officer.” Asswipe.

  The cop sped off in his patrol car and I turned to face Jennifer. She had her hand clasped over her mouth and then burst into another clap of laughter. She was laughing so hard she was crying.

  “That wasn’t funny,” I grumbled.

  “It was!” She could barely get the words out.

  Fuming, I drew her close to me by her scarf. “You owe me a blow job.”

  Still laughing, her watering eyes lit up like lanterns. “I’ll think about it.”

  Man, she was pissing me off more. I was quickly learning my tiger was a feisty one. I might have to tame her. Well, at least, I had something to look forward to.

  She held my gaze in hers. That little dimpled smile curled on her upturned lips. Fuck, she was beautiful. Unable to resist, I smacked my lips one more time against hers and took off.

  *

  There wasn’t much to do in downtown Boise. Being Christmas Day, virtually everything was closed. The one thing we could do was go to the movies. I wanted to see The Wolf of Wall Street with Leonardo DiCaprio; she wanted to see Frozen. A fucking Disney cartoon. Guess who won? Wrong. She did. I was giving into her every need and whim. I was seriously in love with her.

  The theater was packed with parents and kids. Holding hands, we scanned the dozens of rows for two seats together. I took in the crowd and wondered—would this be us in a few years? A married couple taking their kids to a movie on Christmas Day. A passing woman holding a toddler made me think of the day Jennifer and I had lunch with my pal Jaime and his twins. She was great with those babies. I turned to look at her. Yeah. She was going to make one damn good mother, and our babies were going to be fucking perfect.

  We finally found two seats in the
very back of the theater bordering the aisle. I told Jennifer to save my seat while I went to the concession stand to get some popcorn and Cokes. It’d been a long time since I’d been on a movie date with a girl. That’s not what I did with hook-ups, who only escorted me to glamorous premiers.

  The concession lines were long, filled with irritated parents and whiny kids. As I impatiently waited my turn, a funny thought crossed my mind. I bet cheapskate Dickwick made her buy her own popcorn and soda. And probably her movie ticket too. I snickered silently. Those days were over. Ancient history.

  When I got back inside the theater, the movie had just started. The lights were down and the opening title sequence was playing. I lowered myself to the seat on the aisle and handed Jennifer a Coke. “Thanks,” she whispered, her eyes glued to the big screen.

  I held the big tub of popcorn in my lap and nibbled on some kernels. My mind was distracted. What the fuck did you do with a girl at the movies? Vague recollections of my junior high school days came back. You held her hand. And at some point, you made out with her. And if you were really lucky, you got a hand job and came home with some pussy on your pinky.

  Okay. So, I held her hand. It was soft and warm. She didn’t resist. So far so good. She reached into the bucket of popcorn and grabbed a handful. I watched as she popped one kernel at time into her mouth. She reached for another handful. And then another. Balls. It was going to be hard to make out with her if she was going to be eating popcorn the whole time.

  Despite myself, I actually found myself getting into the movie. It was about this feisty girl who reminded me a lot of Jennifer and featured this hilarious snowman named Olaf that made me think of the one we’d built earlier in the day. And the CGI animation was pretty amazing. Cartoons had come a long way since Mickey Mouse.