NEVER
AWAKENING
Sleep With A Porcupine
It was one of the worst storms Walt could remember. School was let out early Friday so faculty and students would be able to get home before the major snow fall started. The wind was whipping what was already on the ground making it a blizzard by three that afternoon.
After checking that there was no real need to be snow bound at home with mom, Walt bundled up and raced the wind out to the cabin. Mom had invited a few of the neighbor ladies to spend the time together instead of huddling solo in their own homes. She would be fine. He needed to be alone.
Pulling his motorcycle up the stairs he parked it on the porch, opened the cabin and built a roaring fire. Walt was wanting to do some serious thinking. He was beginning to feel that he was taking advantage of Matt's generosity. There was no pressure from Matt, yet it was bothersome that the only thing Walt could do was help with Matt's school work. Unable to reach a conclusion, Walt cleared him mind and threw himself into a heavy workout with the weights.
His muscles strained and pumped. Sweat soon covered his body which glistened in the firelight. The aches and straining smoothed together building a warmth, a self satisfied feeling of pleasure. He started a leisurely round of stretching exercises. The sensualness of his slow paced moves settled in his groin. His elevated heart beat pulsed. It throbbed in his balls and brought him to a semi-erect state of excitement. The need for release built with the pumping flow of blood.
Soaping down in the shower he found it impossible not to manipulate his sex which now stood fully extended begging for attention. His hands stroked the smooth slickness of his soapy body. He grasped himself and slowly started masturbating. It felt fine, like it always did. He stood, legs spread, the soapy foam streaming off, down the drain. Shivers of mounting pleasure coursed over him. His eyes closed. He stretched his head back, tensing his neck and chest. The thunder of his climax shook him.
Walt froze with a startled expression. His cock continued to spew his hot cum into the pelting water. His hand no longer moved in its familiarity. This time a flashing series of pictures had entered his mind, filled the blank void that was his normal ejaculation experience. The pictures were of Matt. Matt standing nude, yawning and stretching, sensually. Matt twisting and turning in the shower right next to him. Matt arching his back and moaning as his date placed her hand on his organ. Matt laying in nonchalant nakedness on the bed, recounting every move, recounting in detail an evening's conquest.
With shock, Walt's hand jerked away from his penis as if it was on fire. Why was his mind's eye focused on Matt? He didn't feel that way about any one, especially Matt. For damn sure Matt had never given any indication he was interested in Walt that way. That way? That was dirty, evil. Like the name it was called, queer, it was unnatural. Walt tried to understand what had happened as he slowly, cautiously toweled down avoiding touching himself in any manner that could seem sexual. Where had those pictures come from? Did he not know himself as well as he thought he did? He tried to escape, flipping on the TV. Nothing caught his interest or erased the guilty fear he felt. Why?
Walt busied himself in the kitchen, wolfed a sandwich and gulped a glass of milk. He then forced himself to concentrate on the TV. Whatever it was that was on, he was going to watch it. Slowly the uneasyness faded, he calmed down. But flashes of memory continued to stab his consciousness and make him forget what was on the TV. It was late in the evening when Walt fell into a fitful sleep.
A banging and pounding at the cabin door woke Walt early the next morning. He clutched a blanket around himself and cracked the door. Matt and the howling wind knocked him out of the way. Matt fell back against the door slamming it on the wind. His face was near beet red. His breath whistled like he was just leaving a driving two-minute drill.
"Damn, but it's a bitch out there. Found out from your mom you were here and figured you wouldn't mind some company. Couldn't stand being cooped up in the house. Everything O.K.?" Matt seemed to feel the unease and tension. His eyes quickly scanned the room. Although they had agreed, maybe Walt had someone with him, he was thinking.
Walt tugged the blanket tighter around him. His morning erection wasn't going away. He didn't know what to say. He was finding it difficult to even look at Matt. As if Matt would read the guilt of last night right off his face. He glanced up as Matt stomped the snow off his boots and shook it off his parka. It was just Matt, his friend.
"Hey, it's just as much your right to be here as mine. Actually more so, Matt." he finally replied indirectly to Matt.
Walt took a quick piss stop. It eased the pressure. Then he scrambled to dress. Matt moved across the room, built up the fire and started warming up. Rubbing his hands together, Matt told Walt the latest broadcast news on the storm. It was expected to keep up all day Saturday and end sometime Sunday afternoon or late that night. "I'd say we've got a situation where we best just relax and enjoy it, buddy," stated Matt. "Sure as hell don't think we should plan on any fishing or other outdoor activities for the next day or two." Matt chuckled at his own attempt at humor.
Matt was still aware that there was something not quite right. The atmosphere was not the camaraderie he was used to. Walt was upset, keeping something closed up inside him. Matt quickly decided to ignore it. When and if Walt wanted to talk, he'll talk, was Matt's thinking.
Through the day the boys gradually fell back into their normal mode of interaction. Walt found that his panic had disappeared. He could enter into rational discussions with Matt. Even start enjoying some exchanges that were not too rational. They argued over the best records to pile on the turntable, as usual. Matt insisted on watching the featured college basketball game on television. Walt fried up hamburgers and scattered potato chips all over the kitchen ripping the bag open. It was a normal day at the cabin.
The whistle of the wind and blur of snow outside seldom caught their attention. Right in the middle of the game a series of pops and a loud crashing from out back were followed by total silence both inside and out. Flipping switches and punching buttons, Matt began cursing. The electricity was gone.
Walt rubbed the frost on the kitchen window. Straining to see clearly in the white swirling snow he spotted the tree. It had fallen on the lines leading to the cabin. They hung, broken. Worse yet, the tree rested right behind Matt's car and totally blocked the drive.
Walt got Matt to ease off on the foul language. Then he told Matt about the tree and watched Matt explode even louder. There had been a battery powered radio on one of the shelves in the kitchen. Walt started searching in the gloom and eventually found it. The next challenge was finding if the batteries were still good. They were shot. With this announcement, Matt fired up anew. Walt had been trying to hold in his laughter. He broke loose with chortles and snorts in reaction to Matt's latest outburst of cursing.
"Fuck you, ass hole! This isn't funny. That shit eating fucking tree has no right to be in the mother humping gawd damn drive." Matt was still raving.
Walt just pointed at Matt and continued laughing. When he caught his breath he gasped "It isn't funny. You are, dummy. That language isn't fixing anything and it sure as hell isn't impressing me," he stated.
Matt gradually eased off the curses. His typical grin crept onto his face. "You think I'm funny. Laughing at me, are you." His tone was mock serious. He grabbed a pillow and swung at Walt connecting with an uplifted, protective arm. They were soon buffeting each other, yelling, hysterical in the midst of a room gradually growing dark and cold.
When the horseplay stopped, they got busy checking their survival supplies. Matt bundled back up and brought in ten arm loads of firewood from the pile at the end of the porch. Walt did an inventory of the food stuffs in the kitchen. Because the fancy upgrade the Rivers did was to make the kitchen state of the art, 'total electric', Walt was stuck with seeing what he could plan to heat up or actually cook in the open fireplace.
"Let me do some of that," Walt said as Matt dumped a load of split logs by the fireplace. Walt slipped into his winter biker coveralls, gloves and knit cap and started lugging firewood too. When they had moved almost half the supply into the cabin, they agreed there should be enough even if the storm kept up until mid week.
After dinner they settled in for the night. They moved the beds onto their sides in a wide V in front of the now roaring fire. Draped with sheets the frames formed a reflective background. the mattresses were on the floor in front. Every extra blanket was pulled out of storage and piled on the mattresses.
They sat, side by side, hugging their knees, watching the fire, warm and content. Matt challenged Walt to find figures in the fire as it danced on and into the logs. The glow of the fire shifted in shape and color. Imagination made all kinds of moving forms appear and then fade away. Walt spotted dancers, a leaping deer, a wild eyed witch . . . and felt himself nodding off with the warmth that covered them like an extra protective blanket.
Walt gradually slumped against Matt. The aroma of Matt's body next to him mixed with the fire's invaded his nose. He inhaled. Through the blankets they had wrapped around them the male scent of Matt was far stronger than Walt believed possible. He took another deep, yawning breath. The strange feelings, tinglings, buzzings were back. Walt was afraid to move, fearful of opening his eyes. He know Matt was fully dressed and clutching a blanket around him. Yet, Walt was seeing Matt stretched out with the fire flickering over his naked form. Walt also felt himself reacting, becoming excited by what he was picturing, by the musky smell of Matt next to him.
Walt pulled away from Matt, stood and stretched, holding his blanket around himself for warmth . . . and to ensure Matt did not see. Matt just wouldn't understand. Hell, pondered Walt, even I don't understand. " I'm out for the night. See you in the a.m."
Walt curled up under the covers piled on his mattress. He faked deep breathing, tossed and turned. Eventually he heard Matt sigh, say good night and quite quickly drop into a steady heavy wheezing slumber. The room was filled with just two sounds, the steady rush of Matt's breath and the crackling of the fire.
Walt didn't trust himself to sleep. What would he dream? Why is he being tortured this way? Against his will his pulse slowed, his breathing became steady and rhythmic. Walt slept. No images filled the night. It was a dull, dead sleep.
- o o o -
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