On a Snowy Afternoon

"Well, gentlemen, I'm for an after-meal hike on the mountain before this afternoon's short session. All this sitting around in meetings is making me sluggish." Professor Rab Rahmani stood up from the table in the dining room of the InterContinental Davos hotel, his eyes going to the rise of the Rhaetian Alps of Switzerland beyond the walls of the mountain resort hotel in the highest town in Europe. He took up the thick coat that had been draped on the back of his chair and had impeded the otherwise excellent waiter service during the lunch.

Across the restaurant, young and eager Erik Hinkel of the courtesy staff of the international nuclear physicists conference being held in the hotel popped up from his table and took up station at the exit. He had a heavy coat folded over his arm.

The men—and woman—who had been at the professor's luncheon table, fawning on the leading American nuclear physicist, had all taken in the coordinated movement of the handsome, young, Germanic blond Hinkel across the room. Rahmani was famous—or infamous, in some circles—for having solved the problem of being caught, as a defected Iranian scientist, working in the Iraqi nuclear program and being captured by the Americans in Operation Desert Storm in 1991, by defecting to the United States. Since then he had been one of the leading lights in the American nuclear program. Rahmani also had a certain reputation with young men, which the Americans seemed happy to overlook to have the power of his brain working

for

them rather than

against

them.

"Remember that the next session starts at 2:00," a German physicist said. "Although it only goes until 3:00. I would have preferred that they give us the whole afternoon off so we can get out and enjoy the snow."

"And don't stray far," the French professor Felix Dederaux added. "It looks like it is about to start snowing again." They all gazed out of the broad wall of glass overlooking the town of Davos, with the peaks of the Rhaetian Alps rising above the hotel on the right of the window. Light flurries had just started, but they promised to bring more snow to add to that already on the ground.

"I won't be long," Rahmani said. "And I will have a guide. Young Erik Hinkel has agreed to show me a path up into the mountains with a spectacular view of the town."

"Yes, we can see that Hinkel eagerly awaits," the somewhat sour Sun Park, of South Korea, a fan of Rahmani's work but not, in her verbal criticism, of Rahmani personally, quipped as she brought her coffee cup to her lips to hide the smirk on her face.

All eyes at the table watched Rahmani move gracefully toward the exit. Erik Hinkel's eyes also were glued on the elegantly turned-out man as he approached. Sun Park sighed at what she'd be interested in doing with the Iranian-America, but what she strongly suspected would never be possible. Rahmani was a striking figure—tall, dark, and handsome, highly presentable and charismatic even in his early fifties. The graying at the temples of his luxuriously waving hair made him even more distinguished looking than in his earlier years, which had shown the man off in newspaper photos as Bollywood movie handsome—tall and slim, with a dancer's body and movement and with a strut of well-earned self-assurance of receiving what he was due and that he was due quite a lot.

The snow flurries had picked up a pace as the two men climbed the mountain trail. The path was cut into the side of the mountain above the hotel, but still on hotel property, in such a way as to give hikers from the hotel a walk that would be as unchallenging as possible but still permitted access to a view above the hotel that took in not only the unusual sideway egg, golden dome shape of the InterContinental but also the ski slopes sweeping down into the center of Davos. The snow had been shoveled off the path that morning, but it was starting to drift in again as the flurries turned into something more blanketing.

By the time they reached the first lookout, the view—if the visibility hadn't already closed the view down—being of a ski slope, with the lights of Davos below, it was as if they were the only two men on earth. No one else was up here.

"I'm afraid there will be nothing at all to see in a few minutes," young Hinkel said, raising his voice to be heard by Rahmani, who was impatiently pacing back and forth ahead of him. "Soon, perhaps, we won't even be able to see the opening to the path back to the hotel. I suppose we'll have to go back down and try this again at another time." Erik turned back on the path, but Rab walked swiftly back to him, reached out, and pulled the younger, smaller man into his body.

"Let us linger for a moment more," he exclaimed into Erik's ear, having to raise his voice above the whooshing sound of the snow now falling heavily in the fir trees lining the upward side of the path. "We haven't had a time of privacy, and if I've read you correctly, you are interested in having privacy with me. True?"

The arrogance of the man was only superseded by his sterling assessment abilities. And he wasn't a subtle or shy man. He was comfortable in using his advantages, privilege, and charisma. And he was confident that he could just take what he wanted.

"Yes," Erik answered, understanding fully what Rahmani meant by the word "privacy" and tilting his face up to that of the taller man. They went into a kiss. Erik's soft-blue eyes opened wide in surprise at Rab's subsequent boldness, as, with the two men in a close embrace and Erik gathered into Rab's body with Rab's left arm wrapped around him, Rab fumbled around inside Erik's coat with his right hand. He found Erik's crotch, unzipped him, inserted his elegantly long fingers inside layers of material until he felt flesh on flesh, and grasped Erik's cock.

Coming out of the kiss, Rab gave Erik's eyes a searching, dominating look and asked in a throaty voice, "I am not wrong, am I? You will lay under me, yes? You will allow this as token of your willingness, yes?"

"No, you aren't wrong," Erik answered, opening his lips for a return to the kiss, closing his eyes, and nestling closer into Rab's overpowering figure. He lifted a leg, hooking it clumsily, considering the layering of the coats, on the taller man's hip, to give the Iranian-American professor greater access. He understood that Rahmani was going to masturbate him—the older man was already masturbating him. He would return the favor if he somehow could manage in these conditions. And, yes, he understood that this was a preliminary commitment to let Rahmani fuck him when they got back to the hotel. That didn't bother Erik a bit. It was all part of his plan. He swayed slightly against Rab's body and sighed, as Rab slowly, efficiently masturbated his cock to an ejaculation that was as glorious as it was unusual and inventive.

It started slow, Rahmani squeezing the shaft as he stroked it. When Erik had produced precum, Rahmani drove him to distraction by rubbing it all over the bulb of the young man's cut cock. He put the tip of his pinkie finger on the bulb and pressed it to the piss slit, trying to invade it. Erik writhed a bit at that, disengaging from the kiss and throwing his head back and howling to the sky. Rab buried his mouth in the hollow of Erik's throat and pressed his teeth into Erik's flesh there, his tongue rubbing on Erik's throbbing jugular. The young man moaned, feeling both the pressure of the teeth, able at a moment's notice to slice into his throat if Rahmani so wished it, and the insistence of the man's pinkie finger to get inside his urethra channel. The finger tip somehow managed to push the urethra open, breach its rim, and was slow fucking it, his fingernail causing Erik to groan each time it flicked on the tender rim of the urethra opening. Erik panted heavily and begged Rahmani to fuck him there and then.

"Oh shit, oh Christ!" Erik screamed into the snowflakes assaulting his face. "Fuck me. Fuck me now!" He'd never had a man penetrate his piss slit and fuck it before. He'd never known that was possible. Rahmani had more than the tip in and the channel had opened to him. Erik's pants were matching the rhythm of the penetrations of the finger. Precum was surging up the channel, providing lubricant for deeper penetration. He was feeling as one unit with Rahmani in a way that he'd only felt from the penetration rhythm of a cock in his ass before. When Rahmani pressed in, Erik was thrusting up with his cock to meet it—to welcome the invasion.

Rahmani pulled his mouth away from Erik's throat, laughed, and, cupping the back of the young man's head, pulled his face back up for a deep kiss. Erik opened his mouth wide to the older man, and Rahmani pressed his lips inside Erik's, captured the young man's tongue, pulled it into his own mouth and sucked on it. He also released the squeezing hold on Erik's cock, withdrew his pinkie, and loosed the sheath of his encircling fist.

Erik's pelvis had already been set into motion. He had been stroking his cock up to meet Rahmani's penetration of the cock bulb. The man's loosely cupped hand replaced his pinkie action and, slowly at first and then more rapidly, Erik stroked inside the sheath provided by Rahmani's hand. Rahmani was holding firm now, and Erik was fucking himself. Never before had a man made such a production out of masturbating Erik. The buildup was overwhelming, the release explosive.

"Yes, yes," The Iranian-American growled as he pulled out of the tongue-possessing kiss and put his mouth next to Erik's ear, running his tongue around in Erik's ear cavity before continuing. "Fuck yourself. Fuck yourself in my hand. Bring yourself to release. Fuck yourself and give me your cum." His mouth closed over Erik's ear lobe and he was sucking that when Erik exploded, dropping his load in Rahmani's hand. The older man rubbed the cum into Erik's cock, folded Erik's withering shaft back into his fly, and zipped him up.

When the younger man had come for him, Rab whispered in Erik's ear, in a thick voice, "My room, after the 2:00 seminar has concluded."

"Yes, oh yes," Erik answered, as he reached down and readjusted his coat and looked around, searching for the path back down to the hotel.

* * * *

The afternoon seminar session was nearly half over in the Seehorn meeting room. Rab Rahmani, whose drooping eyelids had indicated to anyone looking at him that it was past his naptime, had, in fact, been watchful. He caught the movement of the young staffer of the Japanese conference contingent rising from his seat along the wall and moving toward the exit. Rahmani waited until the slim young Japanese man had left the room and then he, too, slowly stood and worked his way around the periphery of the room. Several sets of eyes followed his movement, taking their attention away from the presenter at the front of the room, as Rahmani's fame and reputation outshone that of nearly everyone else in the room. Those who watched him leave included the conference courtesy service staffer, Erik Hinkel. After Rahmani exited the room, Erik stood and inched toward the door as well.

Rahmani bypassed the first men's room he came to, knowing that the young Japanese staffer was headed somewhere else. This was the only conference being held in the hotel and thus there was a corridor of meeting rooms beyond a swinging glass door that weren't currently in use. Rahmani went through this door and continued down the line of meeting rooms, entering the men's room at the end of the hall.

The young Japanese staffer was standing at a urinal in the dimly lit bathroom. Rahmani saddled up beside him, unzipped, pulled his cock out, and produced a strong stream of piss. The young man glanced down and sucked in his breath. The older Iranian-American scientist was hung. The Japanese staffer wasn't, but he was well enough endowed to have pride in it. Holding his cock in position, he produced a weaker stream of urine and was finished before Rahmani was. He didn't tuck his cock back into his fly, though, when he was finished. He just stood there, looking into the wall behind the bank or urinals.

He flinched but held steady when Rahmani reached over and under the young man's balls and pulled out the flash drive he had tucked up there. The Japanese man grimaced a bit when Rahmani was slow to extract his hand and the flash drive. When he did, the young man made to tuck himself in and zip up his fly, but the older scientist had quickly pocketed the flash drive and had brought his hand back, grasping the young man's cock.

The slight Japanese gasped and gave Rahmani a confused look. Rahmani whispered to him, "No, stay for a moment. Indulge me. You can hardly say no. What excuse would you give for being in here with me? Put your hands on the wall and lean slightly forward. I am going to give you pleasure and take mine as well."

Although exhibiting a worried, trapped look, the young man did as commanded, leaning forward and palming the hands of his spread arms on the wall behind the urinal. Fisting his own cock with his left hand, Rahmani kept his right arm crossed in front of the young Japanese man, his hand grasping the young man's cock.

The Japanese man moaned slightly and looked both perplexed and dreamy as Rahmani masturbated them both, both of them eventually arcing their cum—Rahmani's more prodigious than the young man's—conveniently into the urinal.

The young man, when he'd gotten past the shock, became increasingly lost to and aroused by the experience, and toward the end of the journey to climax, Rahmani was able to loosen the sheath provided by his hand, and the young man was stroking his cock in Rahmani's grip of his own volition and moaning deeply.

"Yes, yes," Rahmani murmured in a mesmerizing, sing-song voice. "Fuck yourself. Fuck yourself in my hand. Bring yourself to release. Fuck yourself and give me your cum."

The young man had leaned so far forward that his cheek also rested against the cool tiles of the wall, his hooded eyes were glued to Rahmani's face, giving and receiving evidence of mutual pleasure, and he was so lost to the sex act that he didn't realize that drool was running down his chin. If Rahmani had taken him into one of the stalls and fucked, him, the young Japanese staffer would have submitted to him. If the young man hadn't been so entranced, he would have begged Rahmani to take him into one of the stalls and fuck him.

They had all wondered why the American had specified what he had about the delivery of the flash drive. It had seemed bizarre at the time—at a men's room urinal, hidden in the young man's—a young man specified—crotch. Now the Japanese courier knew why. He also knew that it made sense. If anyone discovered them here, just the two of them in a remote bathroom, what they would see would be sordid, yes, but it would be believable and thus was a brilliant cover for the real reason they were meeting here.

When he was finished, Rahmani folded himself back inside his trousers; zipped up; and turned, without a word, and left the bathroom. He walked purposely, confidently, without a hint of guilt, to his seat in the Seehorn room, no doubt not having missed anything from the talk on nuclear physics that was anything he didn't know already. As he sat back down in his seat, he transferred the flash drive to the satchel, suspended from a shoulder strap, that he held close to his side. More than one set of eyes observed the transfer.

The young Japanese staffer remained in the position he'd been jerked off in, leaning forward over the urinal, hands and cheek against the wall, now-soft cock hanging out of his pants, trembling slightly. No one had told him this would happen in the exchange of the North Korean nuclear bomb status report. He'd had no question about his personal sexual identity to this point, but, shit, that milking by another man had been hot. He would have let the man fuck his ass. His ass channel actually twitched from the unrealized possibility of that.

Erik Hinkel, who had managed to slit open the men's room door enough to have seen the flash drive exchange as well as what happened later, was quick enough to be gone from the deserted corridor and back in the lecture hall himself before Rab Rahmani had returned. The young Japanese staffer was far slower in reappearing. When he had, he caught the eye of Sun Park and gave her a nod, indicating success. He wasn't about to relate to her all that had happened in the exchange—all that he would have done for the man.

The lecture concluded at 3:00 p.m., and all in the hall, including the lecturer, let out a sigh of satisfaction—more that the lecture had ended on time and that the rest of the snowy afternoon was free time than because of any new information they had picked up.

* * * *

Rahmani answered his hotel room door wearing just a loosely sashed hotel dressing gown. Entering the room, Erik Hinkel did a quick visual scan. There was a desk, with a briefcase on it and papers fanned out on its surface. Erik immediately wrote those off as camouflage. Rahmani's trousers and shirt were neatly hanging on the back of the desk chair. The satchel that had been hanging from his shoulder in the conference hall and where Erik had observed him hiding the flash drive was laying on the queen-sized bed that dominated the room.

The Iranian-American professor closed the door, came up close behind Erik, and wrapped his arms around Erik's torso. The young man leaned back into Rahmani and turned his head for the kiss that followed. While they were kissing, Rahmani undressed the smaller, slimmer, younger man, first unbuttoning his shirt and caressing his chest, bringing up sighs and moans from Erik. Next sounded the unbuckling of the young man's belt buckle, the lowering of his zipper, and the rustle of the trousers cascading down to the floor. Now only in red bikini briefs, Erik stepped out of the puddled trousers as the kiss came to an end and Rahmani released him from the embrace.

"Go into the bathroom, please," Rahmani murmured. He pulled Erik's shirt off his back and watched, with appreciation, the roll of the young man's buttocks as he walked into the bathroom.

In the bathroom, his dressing gown open, and his long, hard cock pressed up under Erik's ball sac between the young man's closed thighs from behind, Rahmani leaned a now-fully naked Erik over the toilet. Erik's arms were spread and thrust forward, his palms pressed against the wall behind the toilet in the same stance he'd very recently seen a young Japanese man in at the hotel's conference center. This obviously was a fetish of Rahmani's. His left arm embraced Erik's heaving chest, his lips were buried in the hollow of Erik's throat, his right hand grasped Erik's cock, and his own cock was dry humping Erik from behind between his pressed-in thighs.

When Rahmani's pinkie went to Erik's urethra opening this time, Erik relaxed, wanting it and welcoming it, and, as if his cock remembered that it was possible, the pinkie met little resistance as it sank in to the first knuckle. Erik came close to hyperventilating, as the pinkie fucked his cock head. After asserting that it could do so as the master wished, though, the pinkie was withdrawn and Rahmani provided a loose sheath with his hand and whispered for Erik to fuck himself in it, which he did until Rahmani took control again, fisting Erik's shaft hard and vigorously beating the writhing young man off, with Erik, pressing his cheek to the wall behind the toilet as the thrusts became stronger and giving a little yelp of release as he shot his load into the toilet bowl.

He had held his ejaculation for as long as possible—the man had whispered in his ear to do so—but Erik couldn't help releasing when he felt that Rahmani had done so, the feel the jerk of the man's cock at the base of Erik's ball sac and the sensation of the wetness, cum dribbling down Erik's inner thighs.