The Blizzard of '96

By Willie Cici published March 12, 2019

Dean reminisces about the Blizzard of 96, the snowstorm that changed his life …

“Who’s that?”, the voice asked. The young man held up a photograph, a black and white, of a man, wearing no shirt, a baseball cap in reverse and a pair of sweats standing in the middle of a Manhattan street, covered with an endless heap of snow.

Dean took the black and white photograph from the young man’s hands. He studied the twenty-year old photograph. (To see the photo, click here). “How young I was!”, Dean thought to himself. “Probably Leo’s age.” Dean smiled. He remembered the apartment on the Lower East Side. “That’s me.”

“You were hot.”, Leo said.

Dean stared at his young lover. “Gee, thanks.”, he said, a bit annoyed. Leo’s answer suggested that Dean was hot, but no longer.

“No. That’s not what I mean. You know … I …”, Leo stammered, trying to apologize.

“Stop. I’m teasing.”, Dean said.

“When was that taken?”, Leo asked.

“January, 1996. The Great Blizzard.”, Dean announced. “You were 3. Your brother, born in October 96 was conceived during that blizzard, for sure.” Leo stared at Dean, as if to say ‘So what?’. “Imagine three feet of snow descending upon a city that could not handle five inches. The city shut down for days.”

“Well, what did …”, Leo tried to ask.

“And remember. In 1996, we didn’t have smartphones. We didn’t have real website streaming. We didn’t even have DVDs. We still watched movies on VCRs. And we watched cable TV.”, Dean said.

Leo stared at his lover. “Tell me more, Daddy.”, Leo said, poking fun at Dean.

Dean nodded ‘yes’. “Okay. It started like any other Sunday morning.”

Sunday to Monday, January 7 & 8, 1996 - - -

“Where you goin’?”, Dean said, as he reclined in his bed. The faint wisp of light from street lights shimmered into Dean’s 3rd floor apartment.

“I gotta get home. All this talk of snow is freakin’ me out.”, the blonde with perky breasts insisted, as he fetched her undergarments and dressed.

“Monique, it’s 5am. There’s barely a dusting. Stay.”, Dean said. He lumbered over to his overnight guest, stood behind her and kissed the nape of her neck. “Stay.”, Dean said sensually. “We’ll be trapped with nothing to do … but …”, Dean whispered as he suckled upon Monique’s ear and fondled her breasts by an expertly maneuvered reach-around.

Monique struggled to get away from Dean’s arms, wrapped around her body. “I gotta go. I’m a nurse. I’ve got to get to work by 3pm. If the snow gets worse, I …”

“I understand.”, Dean said, a bit disappointed. Dean and Monique met at ‘Quincy’s’ the night before last. The sexual attraction was patent. Monique landed in Dean’s bed. She demonstrated keen bedroom skills. With the onslaught of snow predicted, Dean wanted to peruse those skills for the next two or three days. The city would be shutdown. He and Monique could spend a glorious time. Dean walked into the bathroom to relieve himself. When he washed his hands, he stared at his face in the mirror. He shook his head and spoke to his image. “You had to fuck a dedicated nurse.” Dean laughed.

By the time he returned to the bedroom, Monique was fully dressed and ready to leave the apartment. In his Ralph Lauren boxer briefs, Dean looked incredibly sexy. She leered at her host and said, “This was fun. I’d like to call you.”

“Yeah. I’d like that.”, Dean said. He fumbled to find a piece of paper and a pen. He wrote his phone numbers on the piece of paper. “That’s the house. That’s the office. I’d give you the cell, but I don’t use it much.”

“I know. Me, too.”, Monique said. Dean leaned over and kissed the blonde. She returned the kiss with a passionate embrace. “You know I want to stay.”, she whispered.

“Duty calls. Plus, with the storm, more emergencies and stuff. You gotta get to work.”, Dean answered, sounding reasonable and supportive, like the good future boyfriend.

Dean escorted Monique to the door and kissed her again. He stood at the threshold of his door and watched the sexy blonde descend the stairs of the apartment. When he reentered the apartment, he closed the door and muttered under his breath, “Fuck!! I could have tapped that ass for days.” Dean traipsed back to bed and quickly fell asleep. It was Sunday. He had nowhere to go. The boys had cancelled their weekly Sunday morning pick-up game.

Around 11:30, Dean finally got up, showered and changed into his comfortable sweats. He made sure to arrange his chips and beers so he could watch football. When he sat in front of the television, Dean intended to enjoy a full-day of football.

Towards the end of the second quarter, the unthinkable happened: the cable went dead. Dean lost television coverage. He waited for the cable to kick in, but it never did. Desperate, he disconnected the cable wires and attached the TV’s original rabbit-ear antennae. The snow that plastered the tv screen resembled the steady flow of snow that was cascading down upon Manhattan. “Son of a bitch!!”, Dean shouted. He switched his ratty sweats for a pair of jeans, but kept his ‘Giants’ sweatshirt on. He grabbed his coat, keys and wallet and headed to ‘Charlie’s’, a pub down the street, where he could enjoy the rest of the game and grab something to eat at the same time. When he walked into ‘Charlie’s, Dean found some of the other apartment building residents at the bar. The acquaintances made room for Dean at their table. Later, that night, with nowhere to go and snow descending at a rapid pace, Dean returned to his apartment and settled in for a long winter nap.

The next morning, around 7:30am, the sound of the telephone woke Dean. He fumbled for the receiver and answered the call in his morning sleeping voice. “Hello.”

“Mr. Caruthers, it’s Penny. From the office.”, the voice said. “Mr. Thomas has asked me to call all the associates and tell them that the office is closed.”

“Thank you, Penny.”, Dean said, annoyed at the call’s early hour.

“Have a nice day, Mr. Caruthers.”, Penny said. “Stay warm.”

When the call ended, Dean shook his head. “Poor Penny! She had to go to the office to suck Thomas’ cock and make those calls.” He rolled back in his bed, opting for sleep.

Around 9am, Dean hopped out of bed, sauntered into the shower, bathed and put on his comfortable sweats, another sweat shirt, white gym socks and Reeboks. After a hearty breakfast, Dean turned on his stereo receiver, set the volume, sat at his desk in the living room and opened his briefcase. He had heard the forecast and prepared on Friday by bringing home about three days of work. The partners would expect nothing less from their associates. Dean would not disappoint.

By the time 7pm rolled around, Dean could feel the walls crushing him. “I gotta get out here.”, he said to himself. “Anywhere.” As he thought things through, he said, “Let me go to that Asian joint around the block. I’ll get something for dinner.” He changed into a pair of jeans, found his steel-tow work boots, grabbed his coat, keys and baseball hat and walked out of his apartment. The city streets were practically deserted of traffic. The sidewalks were treacherous to maneuver, but not impossible.

Two blocks around the corner, Dean reached the Asian market. The neon sign blinked ‘open’. He knew the old man would never shut down the store, not with the opportunity to milk patrons with blizzard prices. As Dean entered the store, he greeted the old man, “Hey, Mr. Wang!”

“Wong. How many time I tell you?”, the old man said.

“I’m sorry. I was wong.”, Dean said. He walked down the aisle of the market, holding in his laughter. He teased the old man every time he walked into the store. Dean grabbed a dozen eggs and some milk from the refrigerator. When he approached the counter, Dean asked, “Mr. Wong, is Mrs. Wong preparing any food?”

“She made Kung Pao Chicken. You want some?”, Mr. Wong asked.

“Yeah. Please.”, Dean said.

Mr. Wong shouted something in Chinese. A higher shrilly voice replied to Mr. Wong’s shout. Mr. Wong said, “Five minutes.” Dean nodded ‘yes’. As Dean was waiting, Mr. Wong said, “You want to watch movies? Got some new videos.”

Dean smiled. He knew Mr. Wong was always peddling his wares, usually bootleg porn. “What you got?”

“Good stuff. Cheap. $5.”, Mr. Wong said. He opened a box behind the counter and waved Dean to come inspect the box.

Dean rummaged through the box and found a couple of videos. With no cable, he needed the entertainment. “I’ll take these four.”

Mr. Wong smiled. He bagged the four videotapes and wrapped them up. Dean handed Mr. Wong $20.

When Mrs. Wong brought out the packaged food, Mr. Wong totaled the items and said, “That’s $19.50.”

Dean stared at the old Asian gentleman. “Last week, milk and eggs cost $3.50.”

“Today, they cost $19.50.”, Mr. Wong replied.

“I come here all the time, Mr. Wong. Bleed the strangers, not the regulars.”, Dean complained.

“Okay. $15.”, Mr. Wong said, his lips pursed and ready to change his mind. Dean handed the currency to Mr. Wong. “And I hope you choke on it, you fucking thief.”, he thought to himself. Price gouging the regulars during the blizzard: Dean vowed never to step in the Asian market ever again.

Dean returned to his apartment having braved the winter weather and vowing not to leave his apartment until it stopped snowing. He had never experienced anything like that before and was in no hurry to experience it again. He emptied the half of the container of Kung Pao Chicken and white rice on a plate, nuked the dish for about 45 seconds and sat down in front of the TV, opting to watch Mr. Wong’s bootleg videos, ‘Natural Born Killers’. The quality of the VHS tape was okay, although Dean had to adjust the tracking several times as he watched the tape.

When he finished with his dinner, he plopped again in front of the TV and opted to watch one of Wong’s porn stash. The first videotape was predictable, XXX, material. Dean entertained himself by commenting ala film reviewer for the New York Times. By the time he finished two beers, he had watched about half of the movie. He grabbed another beer from the frig and returned to watch the rest of the film, opting not to masturbate, but instead choosing to enjoy his beers.

When the first tape ended, Dean, wide awake and bored, decided the watch the second videotape. He inserted the videotape and hit ‘play’. The film started with two men climbing the stairs of an apartment building. When they arrived at the apartment, a buxom brunette opened the door and welcomed the two men into her apartment. “It’s a two-fer.”, Dean muttered. The picture on the TV became fuzzy. Dean tried to adjust the tracking again to clean up the fuzziness, but his efforts proved fruitless. “Fuck it!”, Dean said, hoping the video would clear up eventually. Soon, Dean found himself staring aimlessly at the fuzzy video. He watched one of the men sucking the other, while the other man was pleasuring the brunette. Dean watched and watched the endless loop of sex he would never willingly watch, until finally, Dean lowered his jeans, pulled out his cock and started stroking his semi-hard member. Dean spit on his cock and stroked his cock, slowly at first, as if on command, then faster and faster. “Hot!”, Dean muttered to himself. The two men sucked each other’s cocks, while the brunette licked their holes. Dean spit on his index and middle fingers and started to play with his ass, a pleasure he never experienced. He returned his attention to his dick as the two men in the video were kneeling on the bed, stroking their cocks and blasting their wads on the brunette’s fake tits. Soon, Dean could hold back no longer and but his nut, cum spilling from the glass and brass coffee table.

The video continued to another scene, another two men pleasuring another buxom porn star. Dean never released the grip on his cock. For as long as the bootleg video played, Dean stroked his cock, to the beat of club music, as flashing images hidden by the fuzzies, introduced Dean to a new world, a new reality, a new pleasure.

Tuesday, January 9, 1996 –

When the phone rang at 7:30am, Dean opened his eyes, unsure of his whereabouts. He found himself sitting on the couch of his living room, cum dried on the floor, the glass top of the coffee table, and his groin. Thoroughly disgusted with himself, Dean stepped out of the sweats that surrounded his ankles and walked towards the bathroom to find the cleaning products. When he finished cleaning, Dean hustled into the bathroom, showered and dressed. He listened to the message that Penny left on his voicemail. He knew that the office was closed. After he enjoyed a light breakfast, Dean set about to work on more files. He had accomplished a great deal of work on Monday. He hoped he could continue the progress.

Around 1pm, Dean rose from his desk and stretched his legs. Dean enjoyed his time at time at the gym. These past two days, he had been forced to work out at home, playing an old abs and core video. He decided to do some cardio, changed into a pair of shorts and t-shirt and headed out of his apartment. The three flights of stairs would become his personal gym, as he sprinted the stairs, faster and faster, doing his best to feel the burn. After thirty minutes, Dean was spent, sweaty and panting heavily. As he stood near his apartment door, the resident in 3D, Jordan, stepped out of his apartment, wearing a pair of loose-fitting cotton boxers.

Dean stared at Jordan. For the first time, he noticed Jordan’s handsome face, square jaw, dazzling smile, taut physique and sculpted chest. Dean felt an attraction to the studly neighbor that he had never experienced. “Hey!”, Dean said.

Jordan stared at Dean and licked his lips. He fondled his groin and jiggled his tenting cock. “Hey!”, Jordan replied. “What are you doing?”

“Doing some cardio on the stairs. Getting a little stir crazy.”, Dean replied.

“Yeah. I know.”, Jordan said, fondling his junk. Dean could not keep his eyes off of Jordan’s groin. “Wanna come in?”

“Yeah.”, Dean said, jumping at the opportunity. He felt his cock chub the minute he approached the threshold of Jordan’s apartment. As he crossed the threshold, Dean closed the door and started to undress. Jordan turned around and smiled. He removed his boxers and walked into the bedroom.

Jordan knelt on his bed and wiggled his swinging cock. Dean stood at the threshold of Jordan’s bedroom, naked and stroking his dick, slowly, as he tweaked his nipple with his free hand. “Come here. Let me.”, Jordan said. Dean walked into the bedroom and reclined upon the bed. He kissed Jordan. Jordan caressed Dean’s body, suckled upon his breasts and kissed the cobbles of his core until he reached Dean’s semi-hard cock. He licked the tip of Dean’s mushroom head, traced his tongue down the long, veiny shaft of Dean’s cock and nibbled upon Dean’s dangling balls. Jordan tickled Dean’s rosebud with his spit-wet finger, all the while licking Dean’s shaft until he reached the tip of Dean’s cock. Slowly, Jordan swallowed Dean’s shaft, inch by inch, bobbing back and forth, until he deepthroated the stud’s throbbing member.

Dean closed his eyes and enjoyed Jordan’s blow job. He placed he hands on the back of Jordan’s neck making sure the Jordan did not skip a beat. Dean wanted Jordan to suck his cock. “What man wouldn’t want his cock sucked?”, Dean thought to himself.

When Dean climaxed, Jordan wiped Dean’s groin and his mouth and lips. Jordan then whispered into Dean’s ear. “My turn.”

The present –

“What happened to Jordan?”, Leo asked.

“His job transferred him across country. My career was here in Manhattan.”, Dean answered.

Leo stared at his older lover. He admired Dean’s commitment to keeping fit. For 48, Dean looked hot. His salt and pepper grey did not age him. His body rivaled anyone in their early 30s. His sexy vibe was timeless. (To see 2019 Dean, click here). “I’ve always known I was gay.”, Leo said.

“I must have buried it. When I was growing up in the 80s, gay meant ostracized, shunned. Even in liberal NYC, especially in the professions. Hell, I didn’t come out at the office until the old man’s son showed up with his lover at a Christmas party. 2005.”, Dean said. Dean stared at his young lover. “You. I can’t explain.”

Leo smiled. “I’m just too cute.”

Dean smirked. “Yes, you are.” Leo reminded Dean of Jordan, his confidence, his swagger. He wiggled his finger. Leo knew. He crawled to Dean, licked Dean’s cock and swallowed Dean’s beast.

Dean looked out the window. The snow was drifting down steadily. A blizzard was not expected, but the snow triggered his recollection of memories that warmed Dean’s heart, while Leo’s wet, warm mouth massaged his cock.

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