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.
> 
                        Cinnamon Buns

Ian wasn't one to ignore opportunities, and his approach was thought 
out.  After their first night together, she asked him about the Cinnamon 
Buns scented body wash she'd showered with, and he'd told her that it 
served several purposes.  "Above all, it cleans, and it also works well 
as a shampoo.  Also, it reminds me of Lauren, which is bittersweet, but 
mostly sweet.  It was her favorite.  Then there's the fact that it 
smells great, and I can afford it.  Finally, and this is important 
Winter, it reminds me to live my life in a certain way.   See, I used to 
be overweight, and when I decided that I'd rather be hungry than fat, I 
had to give up many things, mostly carbohydrates.  Of course, that meant 
that cinnamon buns were pretty much out of the question.  One day, in 
the shower, where so many profound epiphanies are reached, I thought 
about my desire for the cinnamon rolls, which had been brought to mind 
by the fragrance, and something clicked.  There were two ways one could 
feel.  One was that the scent was frustrating, because it reminded me of 
what I couldn't have, but on the other hand, if I gave up the soap, then 
I'd not only be losing the pleasure of tasting, but also the pleasure of 
smelling.  My mind flooded with the knowledge that so much in life was 
that way, and so often the choice made was, 'all or nothing'.  I 
promised myself to always go for the smell of cinnamon buns, and as a 
symbol, to never take another bite of one."

Winter had told him that he was the only person she's ever met who was 
able to parse complex ideas the way she could.  She was remembering 
these things as they walked, holding hands, to the front door.  When 
exiting the car, Ian had extended his right hand to Ann, who was not 
letting it go, and was gently guiding Ian away when they noticed Winter 
hurriedly scrambling to go out the driver's side door, and Ian gave her 
his other hand, and this time it was he who'd held the hand just tightly 
enough to request what Winter had wanted anyway.  She grasped Ian with 
her right hand before slowly drawing away her left.

When they were a few steps from the front door, Ian released Ann, and 
fished in his pocket for the keys, and Winter looked at Ann, smiled, and 
silently mouthed, "I like my job," and Ann giggled.

Once inside, Ann surveyed the furnishings.  It was just as Winter had 
described.  Nice looking, old wood furniture that was in good, but 
lived-in condition, and newer, expensive looking chairs, couch and 
loveseat.  He had a large television, which Winter had said he seldom 
used except to play movies and DVDs of the quirky TV shows he liked. 
Ann wanted to look at his DVDs, but before anything, Ian gave her a tour 
of the house.   He straightaway took her to the kitchen, because here 
was a woman who could appreciate his fancy dishwasher.  He'd thought it 
interesting that Winter's brother thought it was cool, and her father 
even more so, while every female who'd seen it—even Chloe--obviously 
found it odd, if not absurd.  When Ann saw it, she said, "That is so 
cool, Ian."

"We'll fire it up after lunch.  At first, it's all steamy, but then, 
when it gets hot, you can see the workings."  Then he showed her the 
refrigerated compartment that had a door to the outside of his house, so 
he could get deliveries of perishables when he wasn't home or didn't 
want to be disturbed, and explained that the outside door was padlocked, 
and the grocery store had a key.  "I have an account there, but I leave 
the tip inside the other box, the one for items that don't need to be 
kept cold."  Next, he took her to his barbecue room, a transformed sun 
porch with a giant range hood, and elaborate exhaust and fire 
suppression system.  He said that the building inspector for the city 
had laughed, but the inspector from the county issued the permits, and 
he went on to explain in some detail how it all worked, and that the 
ideas were all his, but the technology was way outside his skill set, 
and had been designed by someone who knew what he was doing.

Ann asked, "So the air quality sensors send readings to the computer, 
which adjusts the fan speeds?  Ian, that's brilliant.  Have you 
considered patenting the design?"

"No.  I don't need any more money, but if you are so inclined, you can 
look into patenting it.  I'd be happy to pay the fees.  You could 
probably do it as a practicum, though I'd require that you be completely 
honest as to our respective roles."

"Of course.  Ian, I'd never try to take credit for someone else's ideas, 
and learning the patenting process, that's a valuable skill.  Winter 
told me that you're someone who cares about personal integrity.  She 
really respects you."

"And I respect her.  Why don't you keep her company while I prepare lunch."

Winter was sitting in the living room, reading, when Ann joined her. 
"Ian has cool toys."

Winter closed her book.  "He does, and I could tell he was getting a 
thrill out of showing them off.  You seem even more overwhelmed than my 
dad."  Ann explained about the practicum, and that he'd let her own the 
patent if she wanted, and Winter said that she wasn't surprised.  "He 
really does feel that he has more than enough money, and I guess he does."

"Can I look at his movies?"

"Sure," said Winter, as she rose to guide Ann to the drawer that housed 
his collection.

Ann pulled out each DVD, and examined them, commenting that she wasn't 
familiar with many of them.  "What's this?"  Ann showed Winter the case.

Winter rolled her eyes and smiled.  "Ian's mermaid show.  He only 
watches it for the cute girls.  He even admits it.  He's got Roswell 
too.  Major crush on Liz."

"He's got good taste."

"He has an overactive libido, but I guess I shouldn't complain."  Winter 
looked away for a moment, then said, "You really like him."

"Why wouldn't I?  You do."

"Because he's having sex with your girlfriend."

"Winter, I've told you that I'm fine with that.  I know you love me, and 
that's the one thing that's happened to me in my life that matters.  You 
just told me that you love your job, and I believed you."  She began to 
cry, and Winter was glad that Ian was busy cooking.  "See?  I've never 
had a man in my life who liked me, and treated me like...  I mean there 
were teachers who respected me, and were nice to me, but that's their 
job.  You have Ian, and your dad, and you said that your brother is good 
too.  I've never had any of that."  Winter took Ann to the couch, as she 
continued to cry.  "It's hard, not envying you.  Please don't make it 
harder."

Winter held her as her tears subsided.  "I won't."

By the time Ian called them for lunch, Ann had recovered, but Ian, 
noticing the redness of her eyes, asked if there was something wrong. 
Ann said, "I'm just very emotional.  I cry a lot. And," Ann laughed, "I 
have issues."

Ian said the thing that he thought would be most supportive.  "I cry 
too, and we all have 'issues'."

As the meal was ending, Winter said, "Isn't it time for your nap, Ian?"

Ian knew that Winter was suggesting alone time with Ann, but Ann said, 
"Oh, no.  Not before the dishwasher," and they all three laughed.  After 
loading the plates, Winter exited herself.

Ian moved two chairs into the kitchen, and he and Ann watched the dishes 
being sprayed by the rotating arms.  Ann shared her observation that the 
spinning was due to the off center positioning of the jets, and Ian told 
her that he already knew that.  "There's a pump that powers the water."

"Well, duh," and she poked him with her finger.

"Ann?” asked Ian.

"Yeah?"

"That whole nap thing, it means Winter wants some private time with you, 
and I'm happy for you two, really happy.  She loves you so desperately, 
and I might fall into sleep myself, just musing on your love."  Ian 
rose, and Ann craned her neck to keep eye contact.  Ian slowly brought 
his face close, and planted one gentle kiss on her forehead before 
departing for his bedroom.  Ann took a moment to reflect, then walked 
dreamy-eyed toward Winter, who had re-opened her book.  Ian had passed 
silently, with only a pleased expression directed toward Winter.

In his room, alone, Ian tried to conjure images of the two women in 
sexual activity, but it wasn't working, and in truth, that wasn't what 
was happening in the other bedroom.  Ian did fall asleep, and Ann did as 
well, her head resting on Winter's shoulder.  Eventually, Winter dozed, 
waking once, and wanting to shift for her own comfort; she instead lay 
in stillness, eyes closed, and drifted back into slumber.

Ian woke, and saw that the clock said 5:18.  It took him a moment to 
digest that the time was PM, and that he'd slept only a scant few hours. 
  He got out of bed fully dressed, but shoeless, and when he entered the 
living room, there was only Ann.  His eyes flitted in several 
directions, and Ann, anticipating the question, said, "Winter's still 
sleeping."  Ann detected the slight nervousness in his demeanor, and 
said, "She's OK with us."

Ian was startled, "Us?  There's an us?"

"That we get along, that we like each other.  It's weird what you two 
are doing, but it's only weird between you two.  I think it's peculiar, 
and funny, but there *is* an us.  We both have Winter, and there's only 
one of her."

"She truly is a singular person."  Ian said it completely dryly, and it 
took Ann a second for it to register before she reacted.

"That's so exactly what she'd have said."

Ian agreed, and Ann told him, "I was looking at your videos.  Can we 
have movie night?"

"That sounds fun.  Did you have something picked out?"

"This."  Ann showed him A Midsummer Night's Dream.

"Good.  I've been wanting Winter to watch that with me."

"But you haven't had time, and it's because of me."

"That's true, but now that we've broken the ice, I'll get to spend more 
time with her, with the two of you."

Ann giggled, "Your video collection is funny.  You really like pretty 
young women. "

"Are you suggesting that the reason I like you is that you're pretty?"

"No, and I'm sorry if it sounded like I was, but it probably makes you 
like me more.  People are like that.  Winter thought you'd like me, and 
not because of how I look, but me, and I trust her judgment.  She *was* 
worried that I might be uncomfortable around you because you have sex 
with her, but I'm not.  I spent years being told that sex was bad, by 
people who think about sex in bad ways that demean women, and want to 
punish women for liking sex.  I didn't even buy into that when I was 
little.  I might be inexperienced, but I'm not naive.  You're not like 
those people, Ian.  Whatever you are," and Ann shook her head, "you're 
not that."

"She talks about me?"

"We talk about everything.  We're in love."  Ann exhaled through her 
nose in lieu of a chuckle.  "Better than even odds that Winter wants us 
to be having this conversation.  Ian, I don't think you're the least bit 
perverse.  Know that.  Really.  Everything about this day has been 
positive for me; it seems like one of the most important days of my life."

"Did you get any sleep?"

"Probably about two hours."

"Me too, and she's most likely awake.  I'll go get her."

Ian walked to the guest room at the end of the hall.  Ann had left the 
door open, but Winter could not have overheard the conversation, and she 
was asleep.  Her gentle snoring was familiar.  Ian kissed her to 
wakefulness, and she purred before asking, "Where's Ann?"

"In the living room.  She wants us to watch a movie tonight."

"Really?  We were looking at your collection earlier, while you were 
cooking.  Did she pick anything out?"

"A Midsummer Night's Dream, and before you ask, she chose it herself, 
with no prompting from me."

  Winter looked at the clock on the nightstand.  "It's almost six.  You 
know what I feel like?"

"More and more every day."

Winter threw a pillow at him, "No, what I feel like doing tonight.  How 
much beer is in the keg?"

"It's almost full.  I've had maybe, five or six.  So you want it to be a 
movie and beer night?"

"And toasted ravioli.  I saw a big bag of raviolis in the freezer, and 
we can bread them with panko and fry them up."  Ian offered both hands, 
and she accepted, ending up standing, and in his arms.  After a brief 
hug, they headed down the hall to Ann.  Ann greeted her with another 
embrace, and Winter joked, "You two make me feel so popular."

"It's funny that you said that," said Ann.  "We, Ian and I, were talking 
about how there's only one of you, and deciding that we want to be good 
at sharing."

Winter lifted her eyebrows and said, "That sounds like fun.  I was 
talking to him as well, and we decided that beer and toasted ravioli 
would go nicely with the movie."

"Toasted ravioli sounds good.  I've only had it once, but no beer for 
me.  I would like to drink something though."

"Ian, Ann's never gotten tipsy.  She's an alcohol virgin."

"I've tasted beer and wine, and they were both awful, but I had a sip of 
margarita once, and that was actually pretty good.  Do you have stuff to 
make those?"

"The best,” said Ian, “and I can mix them up really light on alcohol. 
You want your first experience to be a good one.  Also, I make them with 
sweetener instead of sugar.  More than half of the hangover thing is a 
sugar crash.  I can show you how to make them.  C'mon."  They all headed 
for the kitchen, and Ian got a bag of limes out of the fridge.  He 
halved eight of them, and by the time he finished, Winter had assembled 
the juicer attachment on the Cuisinart.  In less than two minutes, he 
had what he needed for a gallon of margs.  He explained to Ann about 
tequila, and the proportions of the liquors used.  "I usually use twice 
as much vodka as tequila, and the tequila has to be excellent quality, 
but since I'm going extra light on the alcohol, I'm going to go 50-50. 
Instead of orange liqueur, I use orange extract, again, the highest 
quality stuff."  Ian carefully measured the sweetener with a tiny spoon, 
then finally added the water.  "I know this is way more that you'd drink 
tonight, but it freezes well."

Winter had filled three short glasses with ice.  "Even though we're 
drinking beer, we have to taste it.  Quality control."  Ian poured a 
very small amount in each glass, just enough for a tasting.  Winter took 
a sip and said, "This is great."

Ann smiled, "I could get used to this."

"Ian's committing a crime, and I think that's sexy," said Winter.

"That twenty-one thing is asinine.  You can volunteer to go get your 
balls shot off when you're eighteen."

Winter laughed at Ian's predictability.  Meanwhile, she had started to 
whisk eggs for the ravioli.  She and Ian worked well as a team in 
breading the frozen squares, something that Ann called attention to. 
They nearly filled a baking sheet, and let them sit to thaw before 
frying them.  "So, they're fried?" asked Ann.  "How come they're called 
toasted?  Toasted isn't fried."

"It's a St. Louis thing, Ann."  Winter was being silly.  "Something a 
Chicagolander can't be expected to understand."  Winter put a big wet 
kiss on Ann's cheek, and as she pulled away, Ann motioned in Ian's 
direction with her eyes.

Ian noticed, and said, "You two can kiss or whatever else, all you want, 
just not while I'm driving," then he added, "or operating dangerous 
machinery."  Ian had opened a jar of marinara and emptied it into a 
saucepan.

"The cheese grater?" asked Winter.  Ian smiled.  "After you get done, 
you can come to the living room and watch us kiss.  You're OK with that, 
right Ann?"

"Winter, when you're kissing me, I'm oblivious to my surroundings, but I 
want my drink now."

"Sure," said Winter, and she poured the half melted ice out of Ann's 
glass, and put in new ice, before getting out the pitcher and pouring. 
"I'm waiting until after kissing, because I think that tequila and beer 
would probably clash, like one of those gross beer margaritas they make 
at bars."

"Have you ever had one?" asked Ian.

"No, but I've never had a sardine sundae either."

"Eww," said Ann.  "The sardine sundae, not the margarita," which she was 
just finishing.  She handed it to Winter, "Refill?"

Winter cautioned, "You're going to end up drunk."

"I thought that was the idea."  Even as lightly as Ian had mixed the 
drinks, Winter knew about drinking on an empty stomach.  Ann would be 
feeling it very soon, if she wasn't already.  His tasks completed, Ian 
followed the girls and took them up on the offer to watch.  "I've never 
done anything in front of anyone before.  It feels naughty."

"Naughty is good," said Winter.

Ann nodded, "Naughty is good."

The kissing was pretty, but Ian's thoughts were on the wetness.  He knew 
that Winter's mouth tasted wonderful, and was imagining what it would be 
like to taste Ann's, and it was making him hard.  He tried to turn his 
body so that it would go unnoticed, but that very act, moving into a 
slightly awkward position alerted Winter.  Her hand shot out and brushed 
against him.  "Ian is thinking naughty thoughts, Ann."

"Ian is going to fry the ravioli," he said as he walked away, but he 
didn't go directly to the kitchen, but to the barbecue room, where he 
removed a large beer stein from a freezer, and poured a full mug.  When 
he turned around, there was Winter.  Ian wondered how she could have 
traversed the creaky dining room floor without him having noticed.

"Sorry."

"It's OK, Winter."  Ian was surprised when she kissed him with open 
mouth.  She was sharing, sharing the traces of Ann's body, and Ian was 
hard again.  Winter took away his beer, and put it on the shelf in the 
freezer.  She took his hand and pulled him into the pantry, turned on 
the light, and closed the door.   Ian said, "Winter, we have a guest."

"She's not a guest, and she knows what I'm doing.  Ian, come on, you 
know you'll be uncomfortable all evening otherwise.  You get to put it 
where Ann's tongue was a few minutes ago."  That line convinced Ian, and 
Winter easily coaxed him to a great orgasm.  "See?  Now, we can drink. 
Ann's already feeling it.  She's extra giggly.”  They exited the pantry, 
and retrieved Ian's beer, and got Winter a matching one, before going to 
the kitchen to fry the ravioli.

"I preheated the oven for a frozen pizza too."  Coming from the other 
room weren't the giggles that Winter had spoken of, but something more 
like a shriek.

Winter went to investigate while Ian started frying, and when she came 
back to the kitchen she said, "Mermaids, and she's got the pitcher on 
the coffee table.  At this rate, she'll be on it herself, wearing the 
lampshade, before we even get to dinner, much less the movie."

"I really couldn't have mixed those drinks much lighter.  There has to 
be some placebo going on.  You can go back in there with her while I 
finish up."

"With the mermaids?  No thanks.  I'd rather stay and finish the cooking."

"Cool," said Ian, taking her at her word. "Call us when it's ready."
To Ian, Ann didn't seem drunk.  She wasn't slurring words or seeming 
uncoordinated.  She was just uninhibited and goofy happy.  "Ian, the 
best part is the opening credits."  Ann replayed the opening, singing 
along in a cute voice that made Ian want to hug her as he laughed, but 
he restrained himself.  When Winter yelled that the food was ready, they 
turned off the TV and returned the disc to its home.

Winter had removed the pizza from the oven several minutes earlier, and 
had left the most recently fried raviolis in the kitchen.  She was 
protecting the others from burning themselves.  Her parents always did 
that because Eric had little self-control when it came to pizza.  "So, 
Ian, it looks like you have a mermaid friend."

Ann asked Winter, "You remember that first day, when I thought my feet 
would be stinky?"

"I remember."

"Well," now Ann was sounding tipsy, "it occurred to me that those 
mermaids must have horribly stinky feet because every time they go to 
wash them, they get tails instead, so they never actually get washed feet."

"It's not just feet, Ann," said Winter.  "They can't wash any lower body 
parts.  Another thing, when they turn into mermaids, where do their 
clothes go?  Then when they turn back, the clothes come back.  That part 
is really implausible.  It ruins the show for me."  Ian was trying to 
laugh as soundlessly as possible so as not to drown out the wacky 
banter.  "You know, Ann, all this talk about unwashed female bodies has 
probably got Ian all hot and bothered again."

Now Ian lost it, partly because he had been having thoughts along those 
lines.  "Stop, Winter.  It hurts."

"Then go ahead and adjust it.  We understand."

By the time they got to the movie, its humor didn't quite measure up to 
their own, but all agreed that it was, as Ian said, "Darling."  They had 
paused it numerous times for refills and bathroom breaks, and Winter, 
with Ian to her one side, and Ann to the other, felt very well kissed.

As Ann had gotten more intoxicated, she became more sexually 
provocative.  Finally, all but suggesting a three way.  Winter and Ian, 
each for their own reasons, were having none of that, and convinced her 
that she really needed to call it quits for the evening, and lie down. 
They walked her back to the guest room at the end of the hall, and she 
fell asleep almost instantly upon hitting the bed.  The other two had 
yet to have their fill of beer, and toasted the events of the day.  "I 
wonder if she's going to feel ridiculous in the morning.  Ian, you 
brought out something in her I've never seen.  She seems to really like 
you."

"I like her too, and you know we both like you."

"Sorry about her teasing you tonight.  I know that's hard on you, I mean 
difficult.  That one wasn't intentional."

"I didn't think she was teasing, but I don't take advantage of drunk 
women.  Men who do that should be horse-whipped."

"We need to be really gentle with her.  She's delicate.  I know she 
didn't seem it today, but she is."

"I'm glad she had a good day."

"I know you do.  You're a good man, Ian, and as much as I'm in love with 
Ann, sometimes I miss falling asleep with you.  You've been so sweet the 
way you insist that I almost always sleep with Ann, and I know that's 
not motivated by your girl body thing, but because you really do believe 
in love.  Oh, and that reminds me," Winter said as she got off the couch 
and retrieved her purse from the dining room table.  She reached inside 
and removed Ann's underwear, and handed them to Ian.  "She says you can 
keep them as long as you want, and I told her that she has earned 
herself an unlimited panty budget, and I told her about the Moon."

"So you two were in there making fun of me?"  Ian said with a smile.

"In a sense.  Ian, she told me that she doesn't think you're a perv. 
She thinks you're like men ought to be about womens' bodies.  She's 
smart.  It's in different ways than we are.  You and I are a lot alike, 
and however long our thing lasts, I hope we part as friends, and that we 
don't ever completely cut ties."

"I love drinking with you, even though it means no sex, and I'll always 
be your friend, even if there's no sex.  Winter, I have enough money to 
pay for extraordinary sexual experiences with very skilled professionals 
who can make the experience seem very real, but I'm instead, here, right 
now, with you, because whatever the artificiality of our arrangement, 
there's friendship, and genuine kindness.  You say that I'm a good man. 
You say the words, 'good,' and, 'nice,' and 'sweet', repeatedly.  Those 
aren't sex words."

"No, Ian, they're descriptions, ones I'd be perfectly comfortable using 
to my potential replacements.  When that time comes, assuming that you 
stay all those ways, I'll just tell the truth, you're a good, nice and 
sweet man with a voracious sexual appetite, and you pay well."

"That's all accurate."

"And that you're cuddly.  Let's go to your bed."  On the way, they 
stopped at the bathroom.  As Winter sat to pee, Ian knelt and kissed her 
face.  When she finished, she tore off three sheets, which she folded, 
then leaned forward, bumping heads, and wiped herself front to back. 
She stood up, leaving her shorts halfway down her thighs, and reaching 
back, raised the seat.  "Your turn."

Ian unclasped his trousers while Winter positioned herself behind him. 
Any shyness that Ian had was overcome by the fullness of his bladder, 
and Winter took hold of his hand, playfully directing his stream to all 
parts of the bowl, washing down every surface in child's play, both of 
them knowing that while sex was close to impossible that night because 
of the alcohol, body privacies had been breached.

-- 
--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