January and June in Vail Ch. 01 - Sex Stories

January and June in Vail Ch. 01

... was someone else. He didn't look at all like a Carlos. He was about 6 foot, a little shorter than I, with dirty blonde long hair, a pink clear Nordic face with dazzlingly white teeth and full lips. When he removed his ski parka, I realized that he was slim and lightly muscled. In fact, he looked like one of those well-developed and well-endowed models appearing on Bel Ami--certainly good looking, boyish, but not a body builder. He was wearing a tight flannel shirt over a tee and threadbare jeans which definitely conveyed ski-bum and teen.

(Okay, some explanations: It turns out that his mother was Spanish, but had married a Swede. It was pretty obvious whose genetics carried into Carlos. And yes, Bel Ami. I did watch gay porn. Just curious. I didn't seem to be attracted to any of the many women with whom I had been paired with since the divorce. I definitely got off more frequently in front of my laptop than in bed with a female partner. I could definitely imagine getting off by sticking my cock in one of those model's asses, maybe in a threesome. But I'm definitely not gay. Maybe a little bi. I often associate gay with soft and feminine--and that is not me. But on line.....)

Carlos had a pleasant voice, and he was a little tentative, acknowledging an older authority figure. He had a masculine demeanor--starting with the serious hand-shake in which his huge hand totally enclosed mine, and the sensual smile of a guy who knew how attractive he was. I guessed immediately ...

... that he wasn't having any trouble picking up dates at the many bars at the base of Vail Mountain. He was unquestionably a really attractive hunk. And we were going to be together for a week. He pulled off his ski hat to reveal a head of blonde curls--like one of those Botticelli cherubs. Despite his physique, he gave off the impression of a young boy in his prime and enjoying life, but maybe down on his luck or at least funds. Somehow I thought my luck might be changing. He was at least as good a wing man as Pat would have been--maybe more. I'd invite him to club with me. He'd attract women like flypaper. Maybe I'd pick up a nice lady. And if he gave me any signal, I'd certainly fuck him. Boy, I was horned. I could go either way!

Over breakfast, I learned that Carlos was 22 (he really looked about 18, even if I stretched it), a junior at CU in Physical Therapy-Massage Therapy. That school was in a suburb of Denver, not on the main campus in Boulder. Because of the needs of the ski industry and the financial needs of students, CU had gone to a trimester system--and Carlos always took off the winter semester to act as a ski guide and instructor to make money for his tuition and life. He asked a few questions about my ski experience and noted that it would be just the two of us. He seemed happier about that than I would have guessed.

Carlos was quiet and reserved. And he kept a constant gaze on my face and body which unnerved me just a little. I hadn't yet worked out what he ...