Sex in Anarctica

Perhaps with this title, you are thinking that this can’t be a hot story. Well, I’ll try to heat it up a bit. My name is Fred. I am 40 years old. I am an astrophysics and geospace instructor at ----- university. Those fancy words for my profession mean the study of the universe and the earth’s upper atmosphere. During the summer recess, I am on loan to the U. S. government at McMurdo Station in Anarctica. Antarctica is the ideal location to study these phenomena because it has little pollution. In the summer the base has about a thousand residents. It’s like a small town.

Soon after arriving I noticed a guy about 30 years old. I was told that his name is Peter. I thought that his name was amusing and intriguing. He doesn’t look like your typical scientist. He is handsome and muscular. He looks more like a farm worker. I noticed that he wears a wedding band. He hangs out with a guy and a gal named Paul and Mary.

The base has a bar/restaurant that becomes a disco after dinner. One night I decided to have a drink at the bar. Peter was at the bar too, so I sat down beside him, and introduced myself. I asked him what his function was, and he replied that he was a glaciologist, at an eastern American university. One of his first questions to me was to ask if I were married. I pulled the worn-out phrase that I hadn’t found the right girl yet. He understood immediately what my meaning was, and gave me a smile. “This is interesting,” I thought. Where might this lead to?”

He explained that he misses his wife and two kids. Underlying meaning—he isn’t having much sex. After chatting for a half hour, I said, “Hey, why don’t you come back to my room? I have a good stock of liquor there.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” he replied.

I live in a dormitory-like building, but each room has ample space, and I have a double bed and a small frig. I have a chair for visitors. He said that he liked my room. I offered him my favorite, Jameson Irish whiskey on the rocks, and he accepted. He sat on my bed in a very suggestive position, with his legs widely spread. I could see a decent size bulge in his crotch.

“Peter queried, “Can I confide in you, I miss my sex life?”

“Don’t worry,” I replied. “I do too.”

Then he startled me with a question, “Are you gay?”

“Wow,” I replied, “That’s a cheeky question.”

“Well, I’ll tell you. I am bi. I go both ways.”

“Our secret” I assured him. “Yes, I’m gay.”

I decided that the time was ripe. I told him, “Maybe I can help you with your need.”

He smiled, and said, “OK by me,” as he undid his pants zipper, and took off his pants and shorts. I looked at his hardening prick and thought, “What a beauty.”

I told him to lie back and relax. “I’ll cure your problem.” I knelt down beside the bed between his legs. When I started sucking him I discovered that he is a talker during sex. This always thrills me. He is also a moaner and a groaner.

He said things like, “Take it. Go for it,” as he pushed my head down on his male meat.

As they always do with my technique, he came rapidly.

“That was very enjoyable. We gotta do this often,” he exclaimed.

“As often as you like,” was my enthusiastic reply.

After sex, I invited him to dine with me in the base restaurant, and he accepted. Dinner together became a daily ritual. Sometimes we were joined by Paul and Mary, but I didn’t like them. And I let Peter know that.

During one sex session. Peter said, “I wish we taught at the same university.”

“Maybe that can be arranged. I have a lot of pull on my campus.”

And the summer passed very quickly. Peter, his peter, and I all were happy .

P. S. Many of the statements and facts included in this story are true. MM. Or should it be M & M?