Date: Sat, 5 Jul 2014 23:47:44 -0400 (EDT)
From: Milford Slabaugh <tommyhawk1@aol.com>
Subject: Hell of a Job

                          HELL OF A JOB
                      By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
                  WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM

     The dining hall that evening was filled with tables and those tables
were filled with men. Over a hundred men ate their meals here at the plant,
and among them was Elliott. Bad enough to be here in the Yukon Territory on
a four-month contract, but he never would have signed the contract if he'd
known that it meant he'd be around all these men all day and all night!
     They were a good bunch of guys, mind you. But in this place, there was
the logging plant, there were a handful of houses around for those men
lucky enough to rate the privilege (which he didn't), and beyond that for
over three hundred miles in all directions by road (less than a hundred by
air, but he didn't have wings on his back), there was nothing but trees and
more trees.
     Elliott raised his large, muscled arms up over his head in a yawn. He
had to stretch straight up, otherwise he'd ram his elbows into the men on
either side of him on the bench.
     At that, the man to his right, Yves Deshaun, grunted when Elliott
lowered his arms. "You getting tired, Ell?"
     "You know it, Y." Elliott countered the nickname he was getting from
these men by giving the big French-Canadian man a dose of his own
medicine. "This is a hell of a job."
     "Pay's good, though." Yves lifted one of his own massive arms to
scratch one hairy armpit. He was only wearing a white ribbed tanktop, so
Elliott got a good view of that mass of black hair that sprouted from that
dank interior. A good whiff, too.
     "Damn, man!" Elliott griped. "Why don't you take a shower before you
come in to eat? I did."
     "Showers too busy." Yves said. "I shower after dinner."
     "What's the matter, Ell, the smell of a man too much for you?" said
Kent Brockton on his other side.
     "It sure don't smell like my mother's gardenias, that's for damned
sure!" Elliott responded.
     Kent guffawed, a hearty, broad-chested red-haired man. You don't
become a logger unless you're both willing and able to work hard and play
hard. Trouble was, the only thing you could do up here was work! Oh, there
were poker games at these tables after the dinner was over, and if you
could work up the energy and enthusiasm, some checkers or chess games, but
that was about it. And after working a ten-hour day (they were on a
six-day, 60-hour schedule), Elliott really only wanted to crawl into that
bed he'd been promised and go right to sleep.
     And since he'd finished his plate, he didn't have any reason not to go
do exactly that.
     He carried his dirty plate and silverware over to the window where he
could turn it over to the kitchen staff (greasy, skinny, olive-skinned
young kids, they couldn't possibly work at anything else up here!), and
sought out Attemeyer. Not that he liked the homely, sixty-ish old man, but
Attemeyer was in charge of new crew like Elliott, and the man hadn't
assigned him a bunk yet, just a locker.
     Attemeyer saw him and gave a gap-toothed grin on that thin, seamed,
wrinkled face. "There you are! Wondering where you'd gone!"
     "I've been working." Elliott told him. And it was true, Attemeyer had
assigned him a locker and walked off for a while, whereupon Elliott's new
foreman had come in and promptly hauled Elliott off to run a forklift a
while. Elliott hadn't stayed on that job, but it had interrupted the
morning's orientation session he'd supposed to get.
     "Well, no matter. Come on, I'll take you to your quarters now. We'll
pick up on the orientation tomorrow, all right? All right?"
     "I done got me a billet in the field." Elliott told him grumpily. The
man had a noxious wheedling tone to his voice, Elliott hated to have to
rely on this disgusting specimen of manhood any more than he had to. "Just
point me to the bed and leave me be, I'll do all right."
     "Come on, then, come on." Attemeyer led the way.
     "You're taking me back toward the plant floor." Elliott noted after a
moment's time following the wasted-looking figure.
     "It's where the staff quarters are. This way. To Elliott's rather
intense disgust, he was led down into the basement below the factory. In
one direction were a lot of machines that ran the bigger machines overhead
on the ground floor. In the other direction was... "Oh, hell!" he groaned
when he saw it.
     An underground bunker, and the room was lined with beds. Over a dozen
in each row at a rough guess. At least they weren't stacked two or three
high! "Yours is fourth on the right side." Attemeyer told him. "Lights out
at twenty-one hundred, and on at oh-five-hundred. Make sure you got all you
need with you before then, as they don't have no lights in here during
then. You can buy a flashlight with a dimmer cover if you freak out in
total darkness, or I can try to move you...."
     "I'll be fine." Elliott wasn't going to argue, the idea of complete
darkness didn't sound so bad. And it was cool down here, or cooler than up
on that floor or in the dining room. This may be the upper Yukon Territory,
but it was also the summertime and already getting uncomfortably warm, and
he hadn't seen a single air-conditioner anywhere in this factory, just a
couple of fans here and there for the bigwigs to cool off with. You
wouldn't think you'd need such up here not that far from the Arctic Circle,
but damn! "We got sheets for these beds?"
     "Sure, sure, a cabinet under the bed holds them. Clothes go in that
hamper, dirty or not, and they get washed once a week on Saturdays, so be
sure you...."
     "Yeah, yeah." Elliott was beyond caring. He was heading for that
fourth bed on the right and pulling at his clothes as he went. He figured
on about ten hours' sleep and he needed every second of it! When he stopped
yanking off clothes, he was down to only a pair of ratty, loose-waisted
boxers but he didn't care. He stuff the clothes into the hamper as ordered
(he'd find out how tight-assed the crew was about their clothes, the place
was spotless right now so he'd better not risk it) and crawled into
bed. Only a sheet over him, but that was plenty, he laid his head back on
the rather small pillow and was sound asleep in no time.
     He awoke some unknown time later to the sounds of a hell of a lot of
men, they were laughing, talking and carrying on. He sat up and looked
around groggily, saw that Kent and Yves occupied the beds on either side of
him. That figured, he decided. Everyone was getting ready for bed despite
the racket so he lay back and told himself to forget about complaining
unless they took forever to get to sleep. He fell asleep before the racket
itself had ended entirely.
     The next time he opened his eyes, he wasn't sure he had opened them!
The blackness was total, and that made the sounds of grunts and snores from
the men around him even sharper in clarity. Shit! He knew it'd be dark, but
this was something beyond black, this was freaky, all those animal-like
male sounds reverberating in the darkness from all sides!
     Chin up, Elliott, he told himself fiercely. You aren't some
diaper-wearing kid, you can't be afraid of the dark! He rolled onto his
back, and that was when he realized it. What the fuck had happened to his
boxers? He was fucking naked in this bed!
     Somebody had seen him asleep and decided to pull a joke on him. He'd
wait and see who in the morning. God knows he didn't care who saw his
whanger, he had ten inches of hard male dong to use when the need arose,
he'd let them look, God damn it!
     A moment later, he felt his sheet shift, and realized that there was
someone under there! Someone had it lifted up about Elliott's midsection
and...holy shit! Someone had just felt over his thigh and captured his
dong! Fuck!
     He had a boner, God damn it! He got them often enough in his sleep,
but that meant that it was hard and waiting for that hand. He felt that
hand stroke up and down his prick and then grip and...
     "Ahhhhh, shit!" he groaned softly. A soft, warm mouth had sunk onto
his cock, taking in his cockhead and some three inches of his pud, the lips
gripped and pulled upwards again.
     Man, he hadn't had a chance to pump his prick in three days, what with
the move and all, and that meant he had three days worth of man-jizz all
pent up in there! His cock was used to a daily milking and now it boiled
angrily upon the stimulation of the oral stimulation it was getting. Might
ought to know that among this many men, someone among them was going to be
a fanny-packer! And his dong was the cock du jour! How many of those moans
and grunts he was hearing out there was gay sex, anyway! Every snore his
ears picked up turned itself into a new source of man-on-man action. And
his cock was getting the best blowjob he could remember in quite a while.
     He kept his pleasure confined to soft sighing sounds, while his hand
snaked down to find and run his finger into the man's hair. Rub the scalp
thankfully at the joy his cock had rushing through it.
     Then clench as the passion suddenly sparked into excitement. His
breath turned into panting, he tried to keep it soft, still, but he was
beginning to clench up, his muscles tightening as his desire rose within
him like the pressure beneath a volcano's rock cap, so that it builds and
builds and builds and then...ka-blow!
     And his orgasm crashed into his brain like a train wreck, he held the
man's head onto his prod so it couldn't escape while his cock ejaculated a
heavy flood of spunk into that warm mouth. The man choked, struggled
feebly, but Elliott held him into place and squirted his jizz into the
man's gullet. The man swallowed, quit struggling, and managed to drink all
of Elliott's sperm from his spraying cockslit. Elliott released him,
breathing hard, when he was done and the man quickly slipped away from him
and out from under his covers. Elliott heard the soft paddle of bare feet
as they left his bed, he heard the creak of a mattress springs as the man
got into whichever bed was his.
     Okay, he figured this group had at least one dong-rancher on it. And
he didn't give such bad blowjobs, either. Elliott could live with that.
     He lay back and rested, waiting for sleep to recapture him. And from
around him, he heard the definite sounds of men having sex. No more doubt
about it. Hell of a situation for a single young man to be in, living among
a lot of other men, all summer long. He'd have to settle for blowjobs in
the darkness for the next four months. Hell of a note.
     Hell of a job.
     He saw Yves looking at him with a knowing grin the next morning. "Have
a good night's sleep?"
     "Yep." Elliott said, then after a pause. "Except there was a roach
crawled into bed with me last night. Woke me up."
     "Yeah, I heard." Yves said. "I've had them on me now and then, too."
     "Any cure for it?"
     "You could sleep with a buddy, push the beds together after
lights-out, like some people do." Yves informed him. "That scares off the
roaches every time."
     "Maybe I should." Elliott agreed. "Have to find someone else wanting
to fend off the roaches, though, wouldn't I?"
     "Yep." Yves said.
     Elliott waited, but nothing else was coming. Hell. Well, on to
breakfast then back to the factory. He wasn't up here to get blowjobs
anyhow, he was up here to work!
     He kept looking around at breakfast and on the job. Which of these men
was the fudge-monkey? That was a hell of a good blow he'd gotten, but who
had given it to him? That bothered him.
     Kent was giving him all kinds of looks all morning. At lunch, he took
his place beside Elliott and after a few more sidewise glances, he cleared
his throat and said, "Ell?"
     Elliott had given up and was answering to his nickname. It could have
been worse, it could have been "Ellie" after all. "Yeah?"
     "Mind if I ask you something?"
     "What?"
     "How big is that schlong you got?"
     "Huh?"
     "It was tenting out your sheet this morning." Kent explained. "None of
my business, but just wondering."
     "Ten inches, measured from on top." Elliott admitted.
     "I heard it, but I didn't believe it." Yves told him. "Your roach' has
been telling everyone you got the biggest one in the camp. I don't believe
that."
     "Mostly cause you had that reputation before he came along." Kent
chided Yves.
     "Did I steal your roach,' Yves?" Elliott grinned at him.
     "I believe it when I see it."
     "Well, you'll have a long wait, because I won't get it hard while you
hold a ruler to it." Elliott said firmly. "You want to tell everyone you're
bigger'n me, go right ahead. I won't call you a liar."
     "I have biggest one in the camp!" Yves declared defiantly.
     "I believe you're right." Elliott said.
     "Maybe." Kent added and laughed, which didn't help at all.
     I stayed in the dining hall after supper, playing checkers with some
of the guys and talking with others. Elliott had to keep answering the
question about his cock size, which he didn't like. Being big was one
thing, being "biggest in the camp" was too much of a challenge for his
tastes. He firmly refused to have any official measuring, telling them he
wasn't interested in the title enough to stand in competition for it.
     The dining room lights flickered at 8:45p.m. Fifteen minutes until
lights out, in other words. The dining room closed as well, so Elliott
joined the exodus back to the bunkroom, only one of four, he had
learned. Elliott wondered just how many of these men had access to those
houses, after all. Or were they only for higher management?
     Yves watched Elliott undress, but he stopped with his boxers still on
and said, to Yves' looks, and those of the others, "I said I wasn't going
to show it." he said. "You can all sneak a peek in the shower in the
morning if you want to, I won't stop you. But that's it, got it?"
     "Watch out for roaches." was Yves only comment to that.
     "I will." Elliott laughed and got into bed. Lights out hit about five
minutes later, and Elliott wasn't too surprised to find his bedsheet
getting lifted up less than a minute later. He was practically expecting
it.
     "Anyone who wants to feel me up like that had better be ready to suck
it off." was all he said to the unseen visitor. "Otherwise, I'm going to
just put the monster back away again!" He said it in a normal tone of
voice, and got a lot of ribald sounds and comments from the men around. Oh,
yeah, this whole bunkroom was a bunch of rump-jumpers, all right.
     Elliott was being approached from the other side this time, Yves' side
instead of Kent's side, but otherwise it was the same fumble-in-the-dark
followed by the mouth clamping onto his prod. This was...different. Less
finesse and more raw animal attentions, the lips were drier and were
pulling on him harder.
     Elliott realized that this wasn't the same "roach" that came crawling
into his bed the night before! He felt out with his hand and found a full
shock of curly hair, the hair the night before had been both straight and
sparser on the head. Elliott decided that even the head itself was a
different shape.
     Ah, hell, a blowjob is a blowjob! Elliott let the "roach" get busy on
his prod while he stroked his sucker's head and neck. Man, those neck
muscles were pretty prominent! Elliott felt further down. Shit! A
powerhouse! No wonder he was moving on Elliott's prong with such virile
aggressiveness, he had a big hunk sucking on him this night! That one the
night before had been nothing but a willing head, but this was turning into
a full body experience!
     The man felt Elliott feeling on his back and shifted himself around so
that his lower body was closer to the side of the bed. Elliott could and
did check out his cocksucker's equipment, found the cock, hard and full,
and damned if it wasn't nearly as big as his own!
     That meant.... "Yves?" Elliott whispered. "Is that you?"
     He got back, "You are not as big as I am. I am certain."
     Elliott had his hand on Yves' prick, and said, "I think mine is bigger
than yours."
     "It cannot be. I must be the bigger one, I am sure of it."
     Elliott hesitated only a short time here, before he said, "Well, get
up here and let me have a better look at yours, then."
     Yves only paused to push the sheets back from Elliott's body before he
was sidling up onto the bed. Elliott scooted over as best he could, but the
bed was really meant for one, Yves ended up partially on top of Elliott and
then he was finding Elliott's cock with his mouth again. Elliott got his
upper body turned sidewise so his neck turned his head to straight
downwards, and Yves' legs were under Elliott, and so they were sucking each
other kind of wrapped around each other that way.
     Elliott had never sucked a man's cock before, but found it wasn't that
difficult. Just keep your mouth lubed up and your teeth clear and grip on
the cockskin and keep working that up and down. Yves was moaning in no
time.
     Elliott had this big, muscled, burly man in his bed, pleasuring him
while Elliott reciprocated with his own mouth on Yves' cock. Elliott didn't
feel the least bit like he was doing something perverted or wrong here,
more like they were men with needs and were satisfying each other's needs
in this situation, and what was wrong with that? When you're on a lonely
road and another man's car is broken down there, you stop and help him,
don't you? When you're a soldier in a foxhole and your buddy needs a dry
pair of socks, you give him your last dry pair, don't you? He's going to do
the same for you the next day probably, anyhow.
     Their lovemaking was like that. A lonely logging camp, stuck here for
four months with no chance to do anything but work and eat and sleep and
when a lusty man needed to get his rocks off, where else could he turn but
to his buddies?
     So he sucked Yves' manly prong and Yves slurped avidly on Elliott's,
and it was just two men enjoying each other, the same way they'd enjoyed a
game of checkers earlier, the same way they'd shared jokes, and so shared
their burdens and their life.
     "Mmm, mmm, MMMMMH!" Yves said and Elliott realized what Yves was
saying. Yves' orgasm was immiment, which left Elliott with a quandary.
     Was he going to swallow this jizz? He considered it; Yves was giving
him an out, he knew to pull off if he wanted to. Elliott felt his own
climax approaching, it wasn't going to be a photo finish, but it was well
on its way.
     Well, did he want Yves to take his own spunk? Did Elliott want that
big French-Canadian stud to drink his come down like a fine wine!
     Hell, yeah! Yves was groaning even more emphatically now, and Elliot
showed his resolve by clamping on Yves' prod and bracing for impact.
     It was as grotty as he'd feared. Yves pumped out a thick clump of
sticky spunk that was hot and gooey and as solid as a lump of clay, then
Yves groaned and squirted out even more.
     Elliott swallowed with a convulsive motion of his throat and found
that cleared the obstruction only partially, more flowed into Elliott from
Yves' prick and Elliott tried swallowing again. It was like swallowing
whole grapes, only slimier, and Elliott got the first wad down to
mid-throat and the second one on its way and there were three and four
still on his tongue to deal with.
     Elliott shoved them all down his gullet while Yves finished climaxing,
including wads five, six and seven when they came along, and when Yves was
done, Elliott kept on sucking on his dong, while swallowing those last four
clumps slowly down, working at it, over and over again.
     Yves slumped down, exhausted, when Elliott finished swallowing, and
Elliott was left to wonder if he had lost his chance. His own cock was
still not ready to fire, was he going to be forced to resort to Ms. Rosy
Palm here?
     But Yves panted hard a few times, then roused and gulped Elliott down
again. All Elliott had to do then was lie there with his head on Yves'
inner thigh, that deflating cock in Elliott's mouth to suck on like a
pacifier, and let Yves' work his glory on Elliott's manhood.
     Elliott's own climax stirred, rumbled, and then roared out of him;
Elliott groaned and gasped and then squirted, hot wads going into Yves, who
masterfully hung on and Elliott heard, pleased, that Yves was gagging a bit
on the sperm like Elliott had on his own. Serves him right, damn it! Serves
him damned well!
     While Elliott was panting, recovering, Yves got off the bed and laid
down again, this time face to face. "Well? Which of us is bigger?" he asked
Elliott.
     "Uh..." Elliott thought fast, then with a flash of inspiration, "I
couldn't tell here in the dark, at least not with only this one
experience. Maybe if we try again tomorrow night?"
     Yves paused, then gave a chuckle that was very French in some
indefinable way. "I see your point. Tonight we were both...distracted, eh?"
     "Very distracted." Elliott agreed.
     "We should sleep on it." Yves concluded. "And since we don't want any
roaches distracting us...."
     "Yes, let's push the beds together." Elliott agreed. In the dark, it
was good that their beds were side-by-side to begin with, otherwise, they'd
never have managed it. With their beds chock-a-block against each other,
Yves snuggled up to Elliott and the two logging studs got some sleep.
     Elliott was chided by the men in the bunkroom the next morning, so he
gave up and Yves and he gave them all a comparison test, Elliott's hard
prod laid on top of Yves'. It turned out they were a dead-on match for
length, and Yves claimed supremacy because his was bigger around than
Elliott's. Elliott didn't care, felt relieved, actually. No reason to win
this particular battle, he'd settle for second place, and let the big,
proud French-Canadian man hold the trophy as it were.
     But Elliott looked at their beds when it were done. "Is Attemeyer
going to let us leave our beds like this?" he asked Yves. "What's the
company policy on fraternizing, anyhow?"
     "Attemeyer is not a problem for you." Yves assured him, and Elliott
smiled. Then Yves continued, "Who do you think was your visitor that first
night after all?"
     Yves turned to leave for the lockers and that was good for Elliott.
You don't want your new lover to have to watch you trying to vomit, after
all! When he got control again, he vented his rage with four small words.
     "Hell of a job!"

                             THE END
               Comments, complaints or suggestions?
             E-mail the Author at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
                  WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM