Disclaimer: This is an Adam's Gay Reader pulp story (#233) written by Michael Scott. There is no copyright on it, so I wanted to share it with others before it gets lost forever. This story includes sex between adult males. If this is unappealing or illegal in your location, please do not read this story.
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Chapter 6: Bullocks and Bull Cocks
Hugh was sorry to say goodbye to Stewart, but consoled himself with the stud geologist's parting remark to the effect that the pipeline, although spread out over many miles of tundra, was actually a small, self-contained world in other respects, so there was a good chance that they'd run into each other-Ñand share a bed-Ñagain.
Hugh caught a flight to the so-called "terminal," an installation at the south end of the pipeline itself, on the edge of a deep glaciated fjord.
There were main control buildings for the operation of the pipeline, rows of colossal oil storage tanks, and living quarters. Four thousand men and women worked there, living in what were only too accurately called "barracks," when they weren't being shipped out to work camps even farther out in the wilderness.
Hugh's roommate was a bulldozer driver named Wilson, whose overweight body and constant preoccupation with pussy held no interest for the welder. At any rate, Wilson had his work cut out for him if he expected to get laid heterosexually without going into one of the nearby towns and paying a hooker for it. The men outnumbered the women at least five hundred to one, and a lot of the girls were either homely or dykes, or both.
Hugh quickly discovered that a pretty, unattached girl could just about write her own ticket at the terminal. So could a good-looking, unattached gay male.
The job generated enormous tensions as a result of the crowded, impersonal living conditions in the camp, its isolation, the long hours, the physical hardship and danger of the work. Everybody seemed to be horny, and eager to relieve himself as quickly and efficiently as possible so that he could either go back to work or rest up until he had to go back to work.
It was much like any predominantly male society: guys--even supposedly straight, married guys--ended up turning to each other for sexual release and thinking nothing of it.
Bored shitless during a series of lectures and films about the hazards of working in the Arctic, Hugh began to study some of the other men in his barracks and fantasize about them. The films emphasized the dangers of hypothermia and frostbite, but since the temperature outside was in the high sixties that day, and Hugh and most of his fellow employees were lounging about in shirt sleeves or less, the material they were being shown had a strange air of unreality.
There were also dire warnings about feeding the bears and wolves, but in this case the danger was less being mauled than getting fired: one of the terms of the pipeline construction permit was that workers must not disturb the wildlife, so anybody caught doing so would be sent home immediately.
Part of the program was devoted to race relations.
"We've got people from all over the world working on the pipeline," the lecturer harangued them pompously. "We've got blacks, whites, Aleuts, Eskimos--workers have come here from South America, India, Japan. We're all stuck out here in this godforsaken hole together, so let's try to get along together. If you can't resolve your difference, don't fight, because the company frowns on that. Fuck instead!"
That got a big laugh, and Hugh's straying attention returned to the speaker, observing him with new interest. 56
He was a big ironworker from Georgia, a devilishly handsome man named Trent, who obviously fancied himself as quite a ladies' man. Hugh had seen him around the camp, boozing it up with his good-old-boy buddies and chasing women, even though he was married himself. Hugh hadn't been particularly impressed. Now, though, he wondered if Trent's professed liberal attitudes extended to cocksuckers. Would he rather fuck than fight if Hugh made a pass at him?
The welder got an opportunity to put his theory to the test a couple of nights later, after a grueling day's work that left him exhausted but feeling excruciatingly horny-Ñhe hadn't had sex with anybody since he'd parted from Stewart almost a week before, and he was tempted to treat himself to a long, intense jack-off session that night before he went to sleep, if nothing came up in the meantime.
After showering and changing his clothes, Hugh had dinner, then wandered around the camp. The workers had put a lot of time and effort into fixing up their lounge area; it was a very sociable place, and Hugh knew that a lot of heterosexual contacts were made there.
Trent, who made no secret of the fact that he cheated on his wife back home every chance he got, was drinking with some of his buddies and trying to put the make on every woman in the room--regardless of her age, marital status, or degree of sexual desirability. He was even flirting openly and outrageously with a couple of tough, sweatshirted young dykes, who thought it was hilarious.
Hugh joined the group and sat quietly, feeling genuinely tired and sleepy, but amused by the increasingly raunchy conversations going on all around him.
Trent was telling a story about his bullcook. Hugh had already heard the term, but couldn't find anybody who could explain to him why they were called "bullcooks." What they were, in any event, were chambermaids. They made the beds every day, cleaned the rooms and the bathrooms, tidied up after the get-togethers in the lounge, and delivered fresh towels.
They earned about ten bucks an hour; most of them were women, but there were a few guys-Ñmostly wash-outs who couldn't make it on the pipeline in any of the skilled trades.
At any rate, this particular bullcook, male, had the blues about something and while he was trying to clean Trent's room--with Trent lying naked in his bed the whole time--he got on a crying jag about his problems. Trent encouraged him to cry on his shoulder, so to speak, and the next thing they knew they were both in the bed, naked, with the bullcook eagerly sucking the big ironworker's cock--a process Trent described with relish and in ear-blistering detail while everybody in their group, but especially the two lesbians, egged him on with explicit questions and comments.
Hugh couldn't believe how open they all seemed to be about gay sex, but he kept his own mouth shut as Trent laughingly explained that, after the blow job, the cocksucker suddenly felt he'd been taken advantage of and wanted twenty bucks for his trouble!
"I just looked at the little punk, standing there in front of me with my jism dripping out of the sides of his mouth and down his chin, and I laughed," Trent said raucously, fondling one of the two dykes' braless breasts through her thin, clinging sweatshirt as she smiled and did nothing to discourage him.
"'Hey, man,'" I told him, "'aren't you a little late, coming up with that shit? I thought we did it for love!' He hadn't even got dressed yet, so he was standing there bare-assed naked with his dick sticking out, all slimy from where he'd beaten it off while he was sucking me and swallowing my come.
"He got so pissed off at me for not coming up with any cash that he wiped his wet prick off on my roommate's fresh pillowcase, then put on his clothes and left, cursing out my ass to high heaven. I just laughed some more. And I let my fucking roommate sleep on that pillow for three nights in a row before I told him what the stain on it was. Now I've got him mad at me, too."
Trent sucked down his drink in one hefty gulp and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. "A guy just can't win around here," he concluded.
"There're plenty of guys in camp who'll suck you off for free," one of Trent's drinking buddies said, with the same startling nonchalance. "They write their names and their room numbers on the shithouse walls. All you have to do is go knock on their door and show 'em your dick. Nine times out of ten, the guy'll invite you inside and go down on you."
Trent glanced up, happened to see Hugh staring at him curiously, and the two men's eyes locked for a long moment. Then Trent relaxed, shrugged his shoulders, and grinned in that incredibly seductive way of his.
"Well, some guys don't like to publicize it, you know," Trent remarked casually.
Hugh wasn't surprised when, a few minutes later, as the party started to wind down-Ñit was getting late and most of them had to report to early shifts in the morning--Trent slid over onto the bar stool next his and offered to buy him a drink. Hugh accepted, but pointed out that he had to get to bed soon himself.
"I know," Trent sighed. "I'm starting to feel kind of bushed, myself. Hey, I hope I didn't offend you with all that talk about cocksucking," he teased.
"No," Hugh replied. "It got me hot, as a matter of fact," he admitted unblushingly. "I'd like to meet your bullcook."
Trent laughed, and turned on his stool, so that his knee "accidentally" pressed against Hugh's thigh.
"I know how you feel, Hugh. I just can't seem to help myself up here; I'm horny all the time. I'll take on anybody, male or female.
"Listen-Ñhow'd you like to come to my room and smoke some 'Matanuska Gold'? It's this dynamite strain of grass that the Alaskans claim is stronger than any marijuana you can get anywhere else. I know it always turns me into an animal."
He grinned at Hugh, then quickly licked his lips and pressed his knee into the welder's thigh again.
Hugh brazenly returned the pressure by pushing his thigh harder against the guy's knee. "You're awfully easy-going for a married man," he said bluntly.
Trent sighed as he twisted the heavy gold wedding ring on his left hand. "I really ought to take this fucking thing off and lock it up in a drawer somewhere until I go home. . .hey, my being married doesn't turn you off, does it?" Hugh quickly admitted that it didn't. "Good. You ready to go?"
"What about your roommate?" Hugh asked, as they got up and left the lounge.
"He's working the night shift this week--and he wouldn't give a damn what I do, even if he wasn't. If was horny enough, I'd fuck and suck right in front of him, and then probably ask him to join in."
As they walked to Trent's barracks, on the other side of the compound, Hugh deliberately fell a step behind to look at his pickup's slim waist, the round firmness of his ass which his very tight faded jeans emphasized almost obscenely, and his long, sturdily-muscled legs.
When Trent unlocked the door of his room and let Hugh precede him inside, the welder glanced down at his crotch and could see the bulge of the stud ironworker's genitals almost splitting the seams of the jeans. Hugh wondered if the bullcook had had to work hard for that twenty bucks he'd hoped to earn but had been cheated out of, or if sucking Trent's big dick had been ample recompense all by itself . . . then Trent looked up at Hugh's face and saw that Hugh was examining him.
"Would you like to get comfortable before we smoke?" Trent asked, softly and insinuatingly.
"You mean--get undressed? Sure."
"Make yourself at home, then." Trent set the example by matter-of-factly starting to take off all his clothes.
Hugh quickly got his own clothes off and then, gazed admiringly at Trent's nude body: it was a bit on the lean side, but not skinny; Trent was about twenty pounds lighter than Hugh, but well put together, like a young athlete, although he had to be in his late thirties.
Trent lit up a joint as he watched Hugh taking his clothes off. Most of the guys Trent had tricked with at the terminal were either young pipeline workers or older executives visiting the facility, so it excited him that he had finally connected with another man his own age who had a truly sexy body--something that Trent, who wasn't known for his modesty, knew that he'd been blessed with, along with a big dick. He gazed hungrily at the welder's equipment and decided that he couldn't wait to see it get hard!
He handed the joint to Hugh, who sucked the potent smoke down into his lungs. They shared the cigarette, standing there in front of each other nonchalantly naked--not talking, not even touching yet, but acutely aware of each other's exciting physical presence in the small room.
Hugh suddenly realized that he already felt very high, even a little dizzy. He'd had several stiff drinks in rapid succession back in the lounge, and Trent hadn't exaggerated-Ñthis native pot was potent stuff!
As Trent finished the joint and crushed it out in an ashtray, Hugh lay down on the bed and, looking up again, Trent got a good look at the other man's cock as it started to twitch and expand in the slow but steady process of spontaneous erection.
Check out my other posts!
"The Man with the Jeep" in the camping section
Other transcribed stories:
"The Battlefield" in the Historical section "My Favorite Freshman" in the College section