My wife had gone off to visit an old girlfriend from high school for the weekend, so I was home alone. A Nor'easter had blown in by surprise, so she'd decided to say through till Sunday, Monday if the roads were bad. I'd spent the day watching some football, and occasionally looking out the window as inch after inch of snow surrounded our neighborhood with an ever increasing blanket of snow.
As night fell there was a knock on the door that startled me. Who could be out on a night like this? What reason?
Wearing only sweats, I grabbed a tee and pulled it on as I walked down the stairs into the front entry hall to open the door, my mind quickly wondering if my wife was OK.
Flipping on the front porch light I saw an older man, maybe 64-65, suit and tie, no overcoat with a gash over his left eye. As I ripped open the door he asked if he could use my phone to call the police. Seems he'd been on his way home from work at the local hospital when someone side swiped his car, pushing him off the road and into a tree half a block down the street. His cell phone was not working, and he'd seen lights on in my house.
The police asked if he was OK, took down his information, and informed him that in this weather, and since he was not hurt badly, that they would have someone stop by his house the next day to fill out a police report.
Off the phone, snow dripping off his soaked suit onto my hardwood floors, blood sliding down his cheek from the gash over his eyes he introduced himself as Bill. He asked if he could make another call, but I suggested we clean up his eye, and get him into some dry clothes first. He kindly, but sternly refused, stating he needed to let his wife know that he was OK and safe first.
He dialed the number, and I was not paying much attention to the conversation when I heard him say, "Hold on and let me ask." His hand over the receiver he coughed to get my attention and said, "My wife is afraid to come out in this weather, and wants to know if there any chance that I could stay here for the night? I'll never get a taxi in this weather."
Not exactly a request one could refuse. The police were busy with more pressing issues, I'd already told my own wife to stay put at her friend's home, and there were already 12 inches of snow on the ground. "Sure, my wife is out of town any way, so let your wife know you have a roof over your head for the night."
The call ended, I suggested that I take a look at his eye, and that he should maybe take a hot shower while I got him something dry to wear. I walked him up to our second floor bathroom, turned on the lights and had a look at his eye. The cut was not deep, and other than some skin abrasions, and a slight bump it looked as if he would be fine. I got out some towels, told him to make himself at home, and then asked if he wanted something to knock the chill off.
"Got any Scotch?" Bill asked a hopeful tone to his voice.
I could not help but chuckle. "Sure, let me find you something to put on, and I'll bring back some Scotch as well."
I'm 5'8" and Bill looked to be at least 6'2", maybe a bit taller, and had to outweigh me by at least 40 pounds. Obviously, the only thing I had that would fit him was one of my robes. I went down to the bar off the kitchen, poured a nice three fingers of Scotch into a tumbler with a few cubes, went up to the master bedroom, retrieved a robe and returned to the bathroom thinking Bill would still be in the shower.
As I opened the door, I saw him standing, back to me, combing his hair in front of the mirror, a towel tossed over his shoulder. Before I could say anything he smiled at me via the mirror and said, "Great shower, is that Scotch I see?" As he turned around for the Scotch, it was impossible to miss what had to be at least an eight inch flaccid cock.
