Re: *Winter's Present* - serialized

On 2/17/2026 5:15 PM, Bryan Simmons wrote:
> 
> 
>              Winter’s Present
>                     .
>                Bryan Simmons
> 
>      Table of Contents
> 
> Silver    9
> Winter    23
> Fast    29
> Wearing White    49
> Sex Kitten    59
> The Party    73
> Turkey Claus    101
> Boy Talk    121
> Scorpions    131
> Ann    147
> Lady Bear    173
> Cinnamon Buns    189
> Sandy Beach    205
> Our Tricycle    235
> Queen of Love    249
> Art    279
> Pillow Talk    291
> A Pink Line to Burritos    297
> Making Love    309
> Solomon    317
> Wearing White Again    323
> Change is Hard    333
> The Letter    337
> The Vapors    365
> Performance Issues    373
> Somebody Else's Daughter    391
> Love Kiss    399
> Bigamy    411
> Equality    425
> Anniversary    439
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> Copyright 2014, 2025 by Bryan Simmons
> 
> 
> This book is dedicated to my wife, Betsy, and to my muse, who shall 
> remain nameless.
> 
                           Sex Kitten

Winter's birthday was only a few days away, and she knew there would be 
a party.  Eric would make sure of that.  He'd told her that he'd always 
be in her debt, and celebrate her birthday like it was the most 
important day of the year, because of his 18th.  Winter had arranged to 
have her best friend, Maryl, spend the night, which was a frequent 
enough occurrence anyway, but that night their plans were much bigger. 
For the previous two years, Winter and Maryl had been "best friends with 
benefits."  That was Winter's phrase.  They weren't exclusive, 
especially not Winter, and there were a couple of other girls they 
fooled around with, but Winter and Maryl loved each other, and said it, 
though only in private.  Everyone pretty much assumed they were lovers, 
but they never acted like anything but platonic friends in public. 
Winter had insisted.  "No 'girlfriends.'  Just, 'best friends.'"  Her 
family, of course, knew, but she'd made it clear to them that this 
wasn't to be public knowledge.

Eric had thought that Winter had done the most unselfish thing 
imaginable, that she had shared her girlfriend.  Winter had explained to 
him, "Eric, she's not my girlfriend.  She's my friend, and yeah, we have 
sex, but heck, neither of us are gay, though you're one of the very few 
people who know that, which is the way I want it.  And it's like this, 
you and Maryl are my two best friends.  I love you both.  It made me so 
happy that you two were happy, and she was long overdue.  A girl's first 
time ought to be with a guy who's nice, and one who is good at keeping 
secrets.”  Winter laughed derisively.   “Most of the goofball guys 
probably get more kicks out of bragging than actually doing it."

For the next several months, in fact, until Eric left for college, 
Winter would facilitate trysts.  It was easy because there was a door 
between the two bedrooms.  It was normally locked, but could be 
unlocked.  After they'd finish, Maryl would return to Winter's bed.  The 
last time had been the best.  Winter knew Eric was leaving in a few 
days, so they made plans, and Winter insisted that Eric and Maryl sleep 
in each others' arms, and that she'd make sure to wake them up in time 
to keep up appearances.  That episode, thought Winter, was her best 
gift, because it was thoughtful.  She'd known both of them well enough 
that she could imagine what each of them felt and would find fulfilling. 
  She'd allowed them to experience each other in an unhurried way; she 
allowed them to taste something more than the easy body love, and to 
part with sweetness on their lips.

Eric wasn't swimming in cash, in fact he felt like a poor college 
student without a job, and living on a budget, because that was reality. 
  He and Chloe weren't worried about money.  Her family had plenty, and 
spent it freely.  He'd never gotten any hint that they thought he wasn't 
worthy of their daughter, which seemed almost peculiar to Winter.  The 
whole pregnancy thing hadn't bothered them either.  They hadn't jumped 
up and down like Mom, but respected Chloe's feelings, and her decision 
to have the baby, and to marry its father.  It was still it, too early 
to tell a he or she.   "It" had been the name of the pregnancy, and 
they'd talked about how sometimes pregnancies didn't take, and about how 
if it didn't, they'd have to get pregnant again.  They'd joked about 
calling it "It."  Both of them were familiar with the Addams Family, and 
Cousin It was mentioned.  Chloe had said, "I hope it isn't one of those, 
that kind of an it."  They'd giggled and done their best imitations of 
Cousin It.

Eric said if it was "that sort of It," and was "born already all Itty 
and stringy," that would make diapering a challenge.  A few weeks later, 
"It" became "The Baby."    Eric was glad that Chloe didn't mind that he 
wanted to spend so much time kissing her tummy, even though sometimes it 
tickled.

Her only real complaint was, "You should be studying too," and when he'd 
said, "Talk to me about physics," she just laughed.  He didn't have a 
clue about physics, and she knew that.

He hadn't told Chloe about Maryl, and why he felt so strongly that he 
needed to do something special for Winter's birthday.  Eric thought 
there was a good chance that she'd be at whatever party he could 
organize.  Winter had told him that Maryl had a boyfriend now, and that 
he was "very, very nice."  He might be there too.  Probably would.  He 
didn't expect that it would be awkward seeing Maryl.  It couldn't be. 
They liked each other, and what happened was pure, and beautiful, and, 
Eric thought, "Managed by Winter."

"It should have been obvious," Eric realized.  The idea of worrying 
about limited resources ignored the obvious *seven hundred pound 
gorilla*.  Ian was rich, and of course he'd be part of the event anyway. 
  Whatever their crazy arrangement, Winter liked him, and Eric had 
decided to like him too.  He'd been introduced to Dad, and it turned out 
that the two of them were a lot alike, apart from Ian's admittedly 
stuffy mannerisms.  "They'll probably become friends."

"Chloe?"

"Yeah, baby."

"I always try to make Winter's birthday special."

"That's sweet."

"I'm going to cook something up with Ian."

"So, you don't want to kill him anymore?"

Eric snickered, "Can you imagine me actually killing anyone.  I'm a 
softie.  Lemme have that tummy."

She pulled a pillow over the area he wanted to nuzzle, "Tickly."

Eric kissed her cheek instead.  "I'm going to call him."

Ian answered the phone.  Winter was there, but she was in the back 
bedroom, practically the other end of the house, Ian presumed, still 
reading.  "Hi, Eric."

"You know Winter's birthday is in a few days, right?  Well, she expects 
a party."

"She does?  Well then let's have a party.  Winter is, in her own words, 
'exceedingly fond' that she's alive, maybe even more than I am, and I'd 
love nothing more than to celebrate it.  Does it need to be a surprise?"

"No.  Like I said, she'll be expecting it.  Can we do it at your place?"

"Sure, and as many guests as you'd like."

"Not many.  Winter doesn't have many friends.  Probably just family, and 
one friend, who'll probably bring her boyfriend, and maybe the friend's 
parents, so,"  Eric did the math, "ten, at the most."

"Great.  If it's not a surprise, why don't you come over and we'll plan 
this party.  I'd like it to be perfect too, and I don't know what she 
likes, what sort of party she'd enjoy."


When Winter heard the door, she put down the book she'd been reading, 
and headed for the front room.  When she saw Ian and Eric shaking hands 
she said, "Well isn't that a sight to see?  What's going on?"

Ian answered, "We're planning a birthday party for a very special person."

"Well as long as he's not here to murder you."

They all shared a laugh.  "No, really.  I'm glad to see you two getting 
along, doing something together, especially something for me.  I'm glad 
I heard you come in, because now I get to pick the food."

They sat down, Winter making a point of sitting very close to Ian.  She 
addressed Eric, "Have you seen his barbecue room?  Ian's got a barbecue 
room, an inside one.  I want barbecue.  Ian does this thing with 
barbecue sauce that he told me about but he hasn't made it for me yet. 
He puts capsaicin extract in the sauce, then puts it on so it can cook 
in, and then he dilutes it with more sauce.  It makes sense.  You get 
the hot into the meat, and the sauce on the surface doesn't burn your 
lips.  And we can have berries with whipped cream, and beer.  You want a 
beer, Eric?"

"Um, sure."

"You, Ian?"

"No thank you."

Winter went to fetch Eric a beer.

"So you have an indoor barbecue room?  That's pretty cool."

"It's one of the few indulgences.  It's not solely for barbecue, it's a 
kitchen, though there's a normal kitchen too.   It's got a smoker, and a 
grill for steaks that are both vented.  I cut fruit wood from the trees 
in the back yard, and I get hickory from my sister's yard, though 
sometimes I break down and buy it.  Are you a barbecue fan?"

"Huge.  My dad cooks on wood sometimes too.  He'll be jealous."

"Then I need to tell him that he can come over any time he likes and use 
my set up."

Eric looked at Ian seriously, "Aren't you worried they'll figure out? 
You know, about what you're doing?"

"No.  I'm not sloppy, and Winter's not either."

Winter returned with a small, plastic pitcher of beer, but no glass, and 
handed it to Eric.  "Live life with gusto."

He winked and said, "Thanks," took a deep drink, then to Ian, "Thanks."

Ian smiled, "You're very welcome.  So what else, Winter?  Heart's 
desires.  Anything for the most delightful soon to be not a teenager."

"Spinach.  Your cheesy spinach.  Make huge amounts.  Huge.  A gallon. 
Two gallons.  It's the best thing ever.  Eric, did you invite Maryl? 
She'll think she's died and gone to heaven, and if she can come, there 
has to be asparagus.  We're asparagus sisters, Ian.  My friend and I, 
we'd eat asparagus until we were stuffed, then later we'd both have 
stinky asparagus pee."

"Winter, you almost made me spit beer."

"And corn, cut off the cob, with butter."

Ian said, "Why don't you make a list, and I'll do all the food?  What 
kind of a cake would you like?"

"Oh, my mom makes that.  Homemade German chocolate, and the right way, 
with pecans, not walnuts."

Eric finished his beer and stood, "I ought to get going.  I'll take care 
of the invites.  What time should I say?"

Ian thought, then asked Winter, "What six?  Six-thirty?"

"Six thirty sounds good."

After Eric left, Winter hugged Ian, and kissed him on the cheek.  "I 
like that you're friendly with my family.  I really love them."

"While you were getting the beer, Eric told me that he was concerned 
that my getting involved with your family would lead to them figuring 
out more than you want them to know, but I told him that neither of us 
is sloppy."

"I swear.  Eric should know, and anyway, the fiction is so much more 
plausible than the truth.   It'll be hilarious when it does eventually 
come out."

"Then I'll look like a dirty old man."

"Ian, you *are* a dirty old man by most folks' ways of thinking."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome, because I couldn't be happier with how seamlessly this 
is going.  How about you?  You think you're getting your money's worth?"

"So far."

"I want to make sure, so let's go to that bed of yours, and you enjoy my 
soon not to be teenager body for as long as you want because I can't 
have other guys, and I don't even have any girls right now."  As she led 
him by the hand she told him, "There's this girl at school, and I think 
I'm in love."

"You've said that numerous times."

"I've never been in love.  I've been in lust, and I've really loved, you 
know, like loved the person too, and it was nice, but this is different. 
  You've been in love.  It's hard, isn't it?"

"It's rewarding too.  Nothing is better, but yes, it can hurt.  I find 
it astounding, the insights you have, the curiosities.  Are girls these 
days that casual about sex?  You seem so mature and matter of fact about 
sex, but you've never been in love.  Didn't that ever feel wrong to you? 
  I don't mean morally wrong, but that's, it's, atypical.   How did you 
get this way?  I'm..."

"Ian, I want to say this in the kindest way.  I told you that my past is 
closed to you.  I have my reasons.  People could get hurt.  They could 
*really* be hurt.  People I love.  I know you're thinking maybe I was 
abused.  I wasn't.  No one has hurt me.  Accept me.  I have a lot to 
offer.  You don't just get my body.  You get more.  You want more, and I 
give more.  I can tell already that you're a person who values 
integrity, and not just your own.  When I told you not to ever pick me 
up again, it wasn't about my body.  You have to respect me.  You can 
ravage me seven ways to Thursday, and nothing, I mean nothing; I won't 
reserve anything about my body from you, but you have to respect my 
privacy.  Please, don't screw this up."  Winter paused, "Don't pry, OK?"

"Winter, I'll try in every way not to hurt your body, but I swear to you 
that I'll never hurt your mind, and I think I had started to, and thank 
you for being so gentle with me.  I have my own sadness.  You can't 
know.  God, I loved her, and it's no one's fault.  Now I feel like I owe 
you an apology for disappointing you physically, as absurd as that is."

"Oh, you're thinking about that owe me a good fuck thing.  That didn't 
mean anything.  It was just the exact right thing to say, so I said it."

"You don't have to sleep with me tonight."

"Yes, I do.  I don't need to have intercourse with you, but I need to 
*sleep* with you because you need to sleep with me.  Easy job, right? 
And if you just want to cry on my shoulder, or just talk, that's fine. 
I'm here to satisfy you.  Everything.  Everything except maybe your 
curiosity.  Did you expect anything less?"

"I did expect less.  I expected more from myself, but less from you, or 
better put, the hypothetical you.  I was thinking about fucking hot, 
young women, reliving grad school, but with far more selectivity.  I 
wanted a harem.  Winter, I promise not to fall in love with you.  That 
would end up destroying me.  I know she's dead.  Dead.  I'll be dead way 
too soon."

"Well, you're not dead yet."

"I dream about her.  It frightens me when I remember, but my dreams fade 
quickly.   Do you believe in afterlife?"

"No.  That's all Easter Bunny to me."

"In my dream last night, she told me, 'You be nice to that girl,' 
meaning you.  It was the only dream I remember where she was speaking of 
the future, at least that I remember.  I don't remember most of my 
dreams, and I don't believe she's a ghost, or in Heaven, or exists at 
all anymore.  Like you said, 'Easter Bunny,' but when you are as close 
as we were for so many years, it's unimaginable that someone could just 
be, poof, gone, even though that's rationally the way it works.  I still 
feel like a victim.  I lost a woman I loved so deeply.  We were 
mismatched in so many ways, but it worked.  She was so white bread, you 
know, sexually, and I was like I am.  I always wanted things I knew 
better than to ask for, and so I didn't ask.  I didn't even really hint 
because I loved her, and in her limited capacity, which isn't even fair. 
  See?  I feel guilty even thinking that."

"Thinking it, or saying it?"

"Thinking it.  This is therapy.  I should say whatever I need to.  I've 
been a little off, and I do want to talk about *my* past."

"I'm a good listener."

"I was self-aware early on, and when I was, I think, four, there was a 
girl the same age, and we quite naively investigated each others bodies, 
and it was pretty thorough.  Around that same time, I saw a thing that 
hit my psyche like a medicine ball in the chest.  Through the slats of 
some wood shutters, I saw my brother kissing a girl, and really kissing. 
  I thought, *'that!'*"

"And you've been orally fixated on female bodies ever since."  Winter 
said it without inquiry.  "It's been how many days, and you've managed 
to work your tongue into every little nook and cranny, except inside my 
ears, which turned out to be too tickly, eyes, which are an obvious, 
'no,' and my nose, which is almost surprising, but I'd prefer you not. 
It wouldn't cross the line of what I'd be willing to let you do, but I 
wouldn't enjoy it, and I have enjoyed all the rest.  A woman likes to 
feel delicious.  At least I think most of us do."

"Thank you for saying that."

"The quantity is way over the top, or would be if we were lovers, but 
this is my job."

"So you feel overworked.  Should I hire additional staff?  That was the 
original plan."

"No, because then I'd have management responsibilities, herding sex 
kittens, but I know you have more to say."

"Thank you Doctor Winter.  So, it wasn't that I was sexually precocious. 
  It was intensely sensual, all five senses, and it terrified me. 
Reflecting on it, it seems perfectly wholesome, but I knew it wasn't 
normal."

"What were you afraid of?"

"Rejection.  Humiliation.  And it wasn't most girls, but some, and my 
craving was so intense.  I told myself, willed myself into latency. 
There was intent.  I told myself that if I got spoiled on having access 
to a girl's body, then that was taken away, life would be Hell."

"Wow, you thought it out that much?"

"I did.  It was my only weakness."

"You seem less scared of women than maybe any guy I've ever met."

"I wasn't ever scared of women, or other guys for that matter.  I'm 
especially not afraid of strong women, like you."  Winter struck a 
bodybuilder's pose, and Ian went on.  "When I was nine, ten years old, I 
could look the school principal in the face, and he was a huge, hairy 
guy who could probably have crushed my skull with his hand.  He was the 
hairiest man I've even seen."

Winter looked away, then said, "And armpits, but I think you just 
haven't gotten around to that."

Ian laughed.

"Bad experiences with antiperspirant?"

"Do you read minds?"

"No.  You told me how sexy you found it that I didn't shave.  Listen, 
later, if you want, I'll wash really well, and you can enjoy that part 
of me."

  Ian smiled, "And now I'm a beneficiary of fortune, and I'm paying a 
woman to let me touch her."

In a perky voice, Winter suggested, "We could do commercials for the 
lottery."

"You're crazy."

"No.  I was kidding.  If I really meant it, yeah, that'd be crazy, 
though you have to admit, one look at me."

"I'm sure the fine folks in our Missouri Legislature would love to send 
the message, 'Play the lottery.  Win a sex kitten.'"

"They don't have it in them to think, 'sex kitten.'  If they knew what 
we were doing, they'd think I was the worst kind of whore, even though 
you're rich, and they love rich people.  But they hate women more, 
especially ones like me, because I'm not a whore.  I'm getting rich not 
being a whore."  Winter looked mildly disgusted, though Ian knew it 
wasn't with him. "Like I'm any different than your maid, or the kid who 
mowed the yard yesterday, or folks who give haircuts, or a surgeon. 
Yeah, surgeon.  Look at that whore.  Shameless.  She just took out that 
fellow's gall bladder."  Winter started laughing, "I am sure glad I 
don't have to take out your gall bladder."

"Me too.



-- 
--Bryan https://www.instagram.com/bryangsimmons/

For your safety and protection, this sig. has been thoroughly
tested on laboratory animals.

"Most of the food described here is nauseating.
We're just too courteous to say so."
-- Cindy Hamilton