Logging Camp

by Peter Green I work as a logger in the northwestern U.S. I’m married, 33, and have always thought myself to be ‘straight’. I think that most guys are at least a little curious about sex with another guy, and other than a little horsing around when I was in the service, I’d never really tried it. I recently had an opportunity to satisfy my curiosity, and here’s the story. I couldn’t get work close to home last summer because the woods were closed down for the fire season. The wife works full time, and I was feeling bad about not pulling my own weight. I answered an ad for a job in Alaska for the summer, cutting timber for a company that would fly me there, pay me well, and cover all my expenses while there. I got a letter back offering me the job. After passing a drug screen and an HIV test (they said it was for insurance reasons) it was final. I’d fly to a remote island off Kodiak. I’d be working 6 days a week on a crew of 26 guys. Spending the summer in the woods with a bunch of rugged guys sounded like a good change of pace. The wife gave it her an OK, and it would probably be good for us to get some time apart after 11 years. When I got to the camp, I was warmly greeted by the foreman. He showed me to my room, which was small and had one small window. It was in one of four converted mobile homes arranged to form a square. In the middle was a building with the mess hall, the head/showers, and a living room area. The showers were communal with two columns with 5 heads around them. There were a few stalls and two old trough urinals along one wall. Pretty basic. Not much privacy, I thought. He told me to unpack and make myself at home. The two double beds were only about 3 feet apart. Again, very little privacy. How does a guy get his nuts off in a place like this? Where would I go to do it, out in the woods? Oh well. After unpacking and setting up what little space I had, the foreman came by and took me for a tour of the camp before supper. On the edge of the camp were a few buildings housing equipment needed to run the camp. One was a pre-fab on a foundation with a smokestack out the roof. It was the diesel generator that powered the camp, and ran 24 hours a day. ‘Dick’ pointed out the back section of the trailer and said that there was a two holler in there and that it was a good place to do your ‘business’ with some privacy. I could swear I saw him wink as he told me this, like it was ‘inside’ information. We went back to the dorm where the crew was filing in for supper. Dick pointed out my roommate and I sat with him. He seemed like an OK guy. ‘Ron’ was married, about 40. He had more than a passing resemblance to Joe Montana, was from northern Idaho, and like me, couldn’t find work in the woods at home. He was a little aloof at first, talking trash with the guys with a lot of fuckin’ this and cocksucker that. They were like the guys I worked with at home, and I was soon cussing up a storm with them. After supper we ended up in the ‘living room’, drinking beer and watching a weird Kung Fu movie. ‘Ron’ started to relax and we shot the breeze and had some laughs. We’d get along just fine. . It was getting late, and morning came real early. By ones and twos the guys headed off for their rooms, stopping by the head to piss off the beer. It was a full house at the troughs, and I found myself standing right next to Ron. Two steady, twisted ropes of watery piss flowed out of our dicks. The room was well lit and as we talked I looked at him, catching an occasional glimpse at his ‘kit’ as he did the same with me. He wasn’t modest at all and took his hand away from his cock and put it up on the wall to ‘steady’ himself, offering me a clear view. I did the same and saw him discreetly checking me out the way guys do. Like me, he was cut, and I noticed the dark ring behind the pink head. I’m a little more than 7” hard, and he looked to be more like 8”. As the flows stopped we shook our dicks out, flopping them around a little longer than usual, getting the last drops out, and they started to swing a little heavier before we stuffed them back into our pants. Once in our room, we stripped to our jockeys and crawled into our beds. Ron said goodnight and conked right out. I pulled my shorts off and laid them next to me. I’ve always slept naked, and I wasn’t going to wear them just because I was here. As I laid there on my back in the nearly dark room I listened to Ron’s breathing slow and deepen before he broke into a muted snore. I had a raging hardon and slowly rubbed with precum up the shaft to the corona. Ron stopped snoring and I stopped my session. He started again and I pushed the covers down, watching my cock grow in the soft bit of light coming through the curtain. Ron stirred again, and I thought, all guys jerk off, he wouldn’t get too weird if he caught me, trying to be discreet. He was turned facing me, and I hoped, strangely, that he would open his eyes slightly and watch me. I wanted him to roll onto his back, throw the covers down, and start playing with his stiff prick, looking over at me from time to time. He’d then mutter, ‘ah, what the hell’ and reach over to turn on the night stand light so we could show off the ‘family jewels’. He’d stand up between the beds and signal me to do the same. We’d stand there facing each other bareassed, putting out throbbing rods next to each other. He’d grin and whisper ‘cool, aren’t they?’ I’d grin and whisper ‘sure are’. He’d then rub his swollen cockhead against mine, mixing our precum together. I’d get ballsy and put my hand around his veiny shaft and he’d reciprocate. He’d haunch down in front of me and check out my boner , examining is in the light, smiling. By now my cock is leaping with each heartbeat, and he puts his meaty thumb at it’s base and aims it at his mouth, licking his lips. He looks up at me devilishly, right in the eyes, then down again and take a swipe with his tongue at the bead of prestuff oozing from the swaying beef-tower, then rub it over his moist lips. Then he goes right down the hard shaft, about 3/4 down, wrapping his mouth and tongue around my rod..........then I shoot 6 or 7 lobs, not in his mouth, but all over my chest, face, and pillow. No, it didn’t happen. It was all in my head. I started to feel a little guilty as I groped around for a sock to wipe up with. I hoped like hell he didn’t see or hear me. What was I doing? I wasn’t gay. I was a successful ‘lady killer’ and had fathered kids. Was I turning queer? I decided to just roll with it, and turned over and slept like a log only to have the morning come too early. The alarm chirped, and through my eyelids I saw the glow of the light. I opened my eyes to see Ron sitting up, wearing only his jockeys and a full fledged piss-bone. I fumbled around and found my shorts, pulled them on over a piss bone-of-my-own, and sat up opposite him. He noticed the bulge and grinned, knowing I’d caught him looking. With that he stood up, the thin cloth of his jockeys straining to contain it’s contents, right in front of my face. We pulled on some sweatpants. ‘Time to water the pony, eh?’ he says, still grinning. I nod and we shuffle off the head, him telling me along the way that we’ll get coffee and then breakfast. As we approach the trough, this time standing at opposite ends, I fumble with the drawstring. I’m nervous. How will I piss off this boner without major embarrassment? No problem. Ron flops his throbber out and puts it on display asking ‘do you know the definition of torque?’. I nod no and brazenly present my stiff prick. ‘it’s the force that keeps your legs from flying out behind you when you piss with a hardon’. I chuckle and feel more at ease. We get a flow going and talk about breakfast, openly checking out the action. Hmmmmm... Maybe. This routine went on for days, working, pissing, showering, eating, and sleeping (sort of) together. Each night I’d wait for him to start snoring, pull out ‘the old fella’, and slam away at him. I was starting to wonder if he ever got his nuts off, and had accepted that I’d never ‘play around’ with him or even share a friendly circle jerk. He did provide a lot of fantasy material though. Then one day, I was out on the edge of the camp and saw Ron walking toward the generator shack. I remembered the foreman telling me about the two holler in there, and slowed my pace and watched Ron walk in. Hmmm. I’d never checked the place out and thought this would be a good time. I opened the outer door, opening into a short corridor with two doors. The left one led to the generator, and the right to the head. I opened the door to the head and saw two full doors on a full wall. One was closed and the other ajar. I stepped in and locked the door behind me. The wall separating the stalls was floor to ceiling and made of painted 3/4” plywood. It was kind of dark with only a dim bulb overhead. As I turned around and undid my belt buckle, I noticed a hole in the wall, probably about 4” in diameter, at crotch level. Hmmmm. Now I know where the wink came from in the foreman’s eye. Through the hole I saw Ron’s furry thigh, and he didn’t know who I was. I undid the button and zipper on my Carharts (the whole crew wore them) and put my thumbs under the waist band of my jockeys, pushed them down below my calves and sat back on the seat. I could see shadows moving through the hole. I leaned foreword slightly and saw the outline of Ron’s chin, then his lips. I moved a little further so he could see the same on me. With that he leaned back and I carefully peered through the hole, not getting close enough for him to see who I was. His thumbs were at the base of his 3/4 hardon, pushing it out so I could get a good look at it, and in no time he was at full mast. He gave it a few slow strokes with his thumb and forefinger. A small bead of precum was forming at the piss hole. My cock was now throbbing big time. He started to lean foreword and I figured that was my cue to lean back. I pushed my 7 incher out for him to see and gave it a few slow strokes until it started to juice up. As I moved it around it cast a shadow on my thigh and white tee shirt. Through the hole I saw Ron slowly run his tongue back and forth between his lips. By now we’d forgotten all about the outer world. The generator throbbed away continuously. Just then someone tried my locked doorknob. Startled, I leaned foreword, while Ron moved away from the hole. After we heard the outer door slam, we returned to our positions. I slowly stroked again, pulling the skin up to where it rolled over the edge of the swollen, flared corona. I saw his finger tip run along the bottom edge of the hole and I figured out what this meant. This man wanted my cock and he wanted it now! A light shudder went through my body and I gasped for a breath. I breathed deep and stood up, facing the hole. Through it I saw that he was haunched down, facing me. I could see him wetting his lips. The shadow cast by the bill of his baseball cap was gone. He’d turned it around. This man was going to be chowing down on my dick, and all I had to do was push it through the hole! Suddenly I started feeling self conscious. What would my wife think of this? What would HIS wife think? Out of nowhere I heard in my head that song from the ‘70s, ‘Love the one you’re with’, tilted my head back and privately laughed. I thought about having only one life, and how I would probably regret not going for this when I’m an old man, taking my last gasps. With that I aimed my throbbing cock for that hole and Ron’s waiting mouth and pushed foreword, my entire kit now in there with him. I ached for the feel of his mouth enveloping my stiff prick, going firm up and down. Instead, he licked at the head, batting it around with his tongue. I pulled back just a little so I could see my cock swaying around heavily. I was going nuts. Just then he went right down on it, his lips visible, wrapped around the last inch. It looked so fuckin’ hot! He started really making love to my bone with long, slow, light strokes. His tongue slathered along the underside near the head. I was in ecstasy. He sped up, slowly increasing the pressure with his mouth, smooth, wet, hot. He got into a rhythm and started moaning with pleasure. I couldn’t hear these moans, but I felt them in my cock as they resonated in his head and went to his mouth. After a few minutes of this heaven, I started to feel waves of pleasure building up in my cock and balls. He took me from one plateau to another until I went trance-like into one final climax, my eyes rolled into the back of my head. I reached the point of no return and he held me there for about 10 seconds. My knees started to buckle and I leaned into the partition, losing the view I’d had. Then I went over. As the generator throbbed on, I could hear Ron whimpering along with me, and the wall between us made cracking sounds as I thrust into it. I shot the first salvo and felt Ron shudder as he blew a load into his hand, the wall straining to keep us apart. He kept hungrily sucking and I shot 7 or 8 more big spurts into his thirsty mouth, me convulsing and he swallowing each one. After I stopped shooting, my cock was still hard and spasmed in his mouth. As he tenderly (thank god) savored it, he was wiping himself up with tissue. He released my bone and I withdrew it and just stood there, leaning against the partition, catching my breath. Ron zipped up and bolted out. Within a couple of minutes, another of the crew had taken his place, also looking for some action. Maybe another time. I was spent and needed some time to savor and reflect on what had happened. At supper that evening I sat with Ron. Not a clue. He had no idea! If he did, he wasn’t going to show it. Ron and I had two more generator house sessions that summer, and I ‘had a taste’ with some of the other guys there too, but that’s another story. I continued to quietly jack off while Ron slept every night, and on a few occasions I suspect he heard or saw me. I’ll never regret having broadened my horizons with those guys. As for my marriage, the sex just seemed to get better. I never told her about my adventures in Alaska. She’s cool enough that she’d probably understand, and probably even get off on it. But I doubt that I’ll ever tell her. It’s a guy thing. I’m signed on to the same camp next summer. Lookin’ foreward to it.