Antarctic Summer Part 1
So no one ever thought I would be a scientist. I had thought I would get a sad little arts degree and work in an office. But something else happened. Who knew? And I'm not just any scientist either. I study climate change. That's big these days, right? Really big. A part of me thinks we - I mean human beings – are fucked. We've made such a mess of things, haven't we?
I suddenly had a passion for the state of the world's ecosystems at Uni and decided to get my doctorate. I wanted to see how fucked we are and taking sea ice samples and studying climate patterns and soil quality and water temperatures is my thing. I did it in the Arctic for a month (where I did research for my thesis on plankton growth patterns over the years), but then I got this job with a well-funded institute, and they sent me to work with this other guy to a tiny research centre in the middle of fucking nowhere in Antarctica. More on that later.
I met my friends Ilya and Stephen at a party I was invited to just after I got the position at the institute. Ilya is a psychiatrist and Stephen is finishing medical school. They live near Heath and Reach (a little village north of London) and they have a sweet life. I aspire to the kind of life they have there. Well, they have a ton of money so I guess my life won't look like that, but you get the idea. I've only known them for a about five months, but it feels like a decade. We just click and it feels really good to have cheerleaders like them.
All right, I guess I should be honest. I did meet them at a party, but they more or less propositioned me and we went to their flat and had some quick and dirty sex. Really quick. It was fun but more to the point I knew I wanted more of them. And not just their cocks, although that was big draw. I also liked their energy, their intelligence, their charm. So when I went to Heath and Reach and spent the weekend well...I was kind of in love with them by the time I went back to London. I don't know how else to say it. And they seemed to feel the same way. I never thought this kind of thing could actually happen, but I've lived it. It can.
It was very strange to be fucking them with their small child in the house, but I got used to it. Their housekeeper/carer Sabrina seemed to take it in stride and welcomed me with literal open arms.
Sexually we were adventurous and affectionate. I most loved being in the middle of the Stephen/Ilya sandwich, taking a cock at both ends. That was my favourite thing. But sometimes the three of us just sat on their sofa in their sitting room, talking. Or we took long walks in the fields around their house. I had never felt so myself with anyone before.
But in the meantime, the institute I was now working for decided to send me to the fucking Antarctic. It's not like I wasn't expecting it. It's what I do, after all. But it reality sunk in when the director of the institute said I was to be there for six months. And with a guy from Hungary who I knew by reputation, but had never met. He worked for another institute in Budapest.
That August, I had a conversation with Sven – who runs the institute – and he told me about what was involved. It was a surreal moment. I had left Heath and Reach that morning, from the warmth and love of Ilya and Stephen's bed, to find myself discussing this assignment that had only felt like an idea all summer and one that I had hardly talked about with the boys. It was like the three of us implicitly decided not to mention it because we knew it meant that our menage would have to end.
When Sven had finished with his little speech, I said, “Can I bring alcohol? Porn? Chocolate?”
Sven grinned at me. “Whatever you need, Nathan. Whatever you need.”
I stared at him a little longer. “And how much are you paying me?”
His smile got bigger. “Enough. You will be well-compensated.”
I knew what that meant. Not to brag, but I was a bit of an academic star when I graduated, so this institute snapped me up and offered me well over six figures. This little half-year jaunt would double it. I decided I could stand it.
“Fine. When do I leave?”
--
Not long before I left the UK for the bottom of the planet, Stephen, Ilya and I had a weekend away at a posh hotel near their house. It felt like an appropriate ending. We fucked a lot and we invited an employee of the hotel to join us one evening which was ridiculous, but very, very hot. I had a little fantasy that this fellow might fill the hole (so to speak) that I would be leaving. It's not like I was the centre of their universe, but I knew I was important to them, as they were to me.
The last morning, really early, I was lying between them in the giant bed, and Stephen started to kiss me. Somehow it felt like a different kiss. Slow, and deep and meaningful. Soon Ilya joined him and the three of us explored our mouths and tongues and lips and necks and ears...you get the idea. Then, when we were all very excited, the two of them kissed their way down my chest, tonguing and sucked my nipples, nibbling my belly, jamming their tongues in my navel, then, with a lot of eagerness, bathing my aching cock with their mouths.
I had fucked Stephen a couple of hours previously, but it didn't seem to have dampened my libido. It felt like a kind of incantation or something, as if they were priests of some religion performing a rite that would transform my life. And you know what? They had transformed my life. I was rather withdrawn before I met them, bruised from my last relationship, not very confident when I wasn't working – I was always confident in my work – and sexually frustrated. All that changed when I started to see them, to fuck them, to love them.
When I finally felt my balls explode and my cock thicken in Ilya's mouth, I fed them an enormous load, arching my back and gripping the bedsheets in a death grip. Without saying it, we all realized it was symbolic. They were giving me something and I was definitely giving them something.
We sadly left their house and drove to the City and, even though I wasn't to leave for another couple of weeks, if felt like we had finally acknowledged the end. Because we had agreed that after six months, who knew where we would be? Maybe we could resume our three-way love-fest, but maybe not? We couldn't predict it. In the same way that, according to Stephen, they couldn't have predicted that Trevor and Mark – who I was getting to know and love – might not survive as a couple and for reasons that were hard to pin down. Things happen in relationships and we can't predict how they will all play out.
--
So when the time came for the journey to Antarctica, I packed up a bunch of stuff according to a list that other researchers had compiled of all the things I would need, all the things I wouldn't, and all the things I had to leave behind even though I wanted to bring them. I remembered what it had been like in the Arctic, so I knew what I was about to face. But six months? Holy fuck.
The centre was on some icy, blasted plain off the coast of Antarctica. Which coast, you ask? Well, the one closest to South America, apparently.
So me and my luggage/detritus flew for Santiago, Chile. Then another flight to Punta Arenas. It took ages. Like twenty hours or so. I slept most of the way having taken some sleeping medication Ilya gave me. Somewhere over Brazil, I had a dream about Stephen and Ilya but, like some dreams, it was hard to tell which was which and in fact they were one person at various points. It was partly about sex, partly about love and in the dream we had been living together for years. I woke up with tears streaming down my face.
In Punta Arenas (which I remember precisely nothing about), I waited for my last flight that was in a little plane that would take me to the research centre. Now that was a scary flight. The plane didn't look big enough to cross a river, much less a vast stretch of icy water.
But the plane landed safely and I went into the Rothera Research Station in Antarctica which looked like a combination of shopping centre and an airplane hangar. Really. It does. Look it up.
But I knew this wasn't the final destination. Apparently I would have to get in something called a Hagglund and travel over ten kilometres to a tiny research station that only held two people. Great. A Hagglund is a vehicle that travels on rubber tracks. It looks like a camper van with tracks instead of wheels. It didn't fill me with confidence when I saw it.
I was standing, looking at the vehicle, my luggage stacked around me feeling like my life was about to change. There were piles of boxes beside me which I assumed were our supplies. It was spring in the Antarctic, but that's just a word, right? It was cold. The sun was shining, but it felt like it was a long way off. I was waiting for Zalan, my Hungarian colleague, wondering what kind of person he was and whether or not I could be around him every day, all day, for six months. I had a sinking feeling. When I was in the Arctic, there had been a bunch of people of all ages and sexes and proclivities. It had been fun. I had shagged one of them for a while (Max: dreamy Scot with a huge cock who shot buckets when he came). Delicious.
But now? I was getting used to the idea that there was only porn and my hand to give me solace for a half a year. I shook my head. How the hell had I agreed to this?
And then you know what? Zalan walks over with a huge backpack. I assumed it was him, anyway. And the other thing was he was gorgeous. Not Ilya-level gorgeous, but close. Fuck. He stuck out his hand and in perfect English said,
“You must be Nathan. Zalan.”
He shook my hand very formally and nodded, as if he had approved of me somehow.
“Cheers, Zalan.” I turned to the vehicle and said, “We have to get in that thing. Is someone driving us?”
He laughed. It was a laugh like spring or something. I knew I was in trouble. “I hope so.”
And there was. A gruff man in a white parka came up and told us to get in. He piled boxes around us and seemed to be ignoring us completely. We sat in the back while he started up the engine which was loud and shook the whole thing. It was so loud we couldn't talk but just looked out at the barren, rocky-icy landscape. The sun was glittering off the snow. It was beautiful. I've always liked polar landscapes. I just hate the cold. Not a great thing for a polar researcher, yeah?
We drove for what felt like ages until we stopped suddenly near a little cliff. I looked out and there was a square building that had a couple of windows. It looked like a big garage. Oh great.
We piled out with our luggage and boxes of supplies and our driver – Thad – said, “I'll be back in a week so radio me what you need next Saturday and I'll bring it Sunday. Right?”
Yeah, right. I tried to sound happy when I said, “Cheers, Thad.” He looked a little too pleased to be leaving.
Zalan had the key to the place, so he opened it up and we dragged ourselves and all the stuff in. It was like a dorm room in a second rate college. A big main room that included a kitchen. Two tiny bedrooms with equally tiny beds. A washroom that had what seemed like a dissertation on how to use the shower taped to the wall.
There were two big desks and all kinds of scientifically-related equipment, most of which were familiar to me. It looked up-to-date so I knew some money had been thrown at this place.
I flung myself onto the lounge and undid my coat. It was cold. I heard Zalan behind me say, “I'm going to find out how the heating works...”
He disappeared into a back room and I heard clanking and some swearing in what I assumed was Hungarian, then gradually I heard the sound of a generator. Then heat. I was suddenly much happier. I wondered why they hadn't heated the place up for us, but then again it was small and I suppose it would have wasted the fuel in the huge tank I saw beside the structure we were in.
I got up and put some food away, then said, “Are you hungry?”
Zalan stuck his head out of one of the bedrooms and said, “I am very hungry...”
I made some food. The kind of food you make in a tiny research centre in the literal middle of nowhere. Basic and edible. We each had a beer, which I was glad to find in one of the boxes.
He asked me about my work, about my graduate studies. He told me about his, about Hungary, about his family. Sweet guy. Very straight. It was obvious. The fact that he talked about his girlfriend was just the confirmation. I said, “You're away from her for a long time.”
He looked sad for a moment, then said, “Yes. But I couldn't pass on this opportunity, you know?”
I did know. These things don't come around very often, so we just take them. I wouldn't have refused Sven, after all. I had just been playing hard to get.
I laughed and said, “Yeah. I do know. Well, we have six months of work ahead of us. Let's do some planning.”
I was all business. I think I threw myself into it because I was secretly disappointed that there was no possible way Zalan would be interested in my cock, or my ass for that matter. It was going to be a long six months.
Later that night, after we had planned and made notes and scheduled various tests in and out of the tiny building, we went to bed. Friendly. Lovely guy, really. I had a crush on him instantly but I decided the best thing to do was not think about it.
In bed, wrapped in insanely warm fabrics designed by scientists, I decided to give myself some attention. I pulled out my phone and started playing one of the video's I had downloaded before I left the UK. It was one of my favourites. A threeway where everyone fucks everyone and cums on everyone, ending with an epic moment where two of the guys unload their cocks into the third guy's mouth. I suppose it's not surprise that it was a threesome video, right? I was missing Ilya and Stephen already. As I watched, I also paid attention to the six and a half inches in my fist that was getting nice and hard. I could feel the ache in my balls – a little hairy and fat – from not having cum in days. My cock looked angry, the bulbous, cut head all red and wet, a steady drool of precum pouring out. I ran my forefinger over the head and licked off the sweetness. It always made my balls tingle.
Back on the screen, two guys were working their cocks hard, pumping right by the third guy's mouth. Soon long rockets of juice went into his mouth, and he gulped and moaned. Then they stuffed their dicks in after, stretching his lips to take them, all the while the two other guys were kissing with all kinds of tongue above him. Worked every time. I shot a huge load all over my stomach and chest as my cock pulsed, my skin caught fire and I threw my head back and gasped – hopefully not too loud. My little ritual was to scoop up a big dollop and slurp it off my hand. I savoured the tanginess of it.
I used my underwear to clean up the surprising amount of jizz I had shot. I could smell it: swampy and rich. I tasted some more. I wondered how much cum Zalan produced...and shook my head. No. I couldn't think about him. Not that way. It would only make me crazy. I shut my eyes and concentrated on the warm tingle in my body, the memory of Ilya fucking me, or me fucking Stephen, or, more importantly, the gentle, loving cuddle we would have afterward. The video was fun, and it was them kissing that was the most exciting right now, but it was a sorry substitute for the relationship I had had to leave behind. But sufficiently distracted, I finally fell asleep, the remnants of my load drying on my belly.
--
The next days were busy. I mean really busy. We had to start our research which involved taking ice core samples from various places around our “compound” and then putting them into a huge cooler outside after doing some preliminary study of each one: categorizing the various layers. I won't bore you with the details. I find it fascinating, obviously and so did Zalan. Even more than I did. He was a little bit of a princess when it came to research. Very meticulous and exacting. Impressive.
But we didn't have much time for small talk or getting to know each other. Our meals were quick and we really only talked about the next task, then next series of tests. On and on. It wasn't until the following Saturday that, because we were waiting for a bit of a storm to pass – strong, icy winds– we were stuck inside with not much to do.
In the afternoon, I contacted Thad with our list of supples we needed. After that, we made dinner and sat around. We watched a film on my laptop which was fun – a ridiculous disaster movie involving aliens and other impossible events. Fun. We drank a fair bit of whiskey.
When the film ended, Zalan turned to me and said, “So...you have a girlfriend?”
For a moment, I was at a loss. Was I ready to come out to someone from another country I barely knew when we were stuck together for months? I had a fair bit of confidence that he would be cool, but you never know, do you? I mean straight people never have to think about telling people who they're fucking. They just say it. When you're not straight, you always have to think about it. Wonder. It always feels like a risk. Even now when so many people are fine about it. Because not everyone is, right? Because when you're with other not straight people, it's different. Then you can describe the consistency of someone's cum and not give it a thought. I'm exaggerating, of course, but you get the idea.
I took a gulp of whiskey and was about to say something, when Zalan said, “Never mind. I'm sorry. It's none of my business.”
I felt bad. I said, “No...it's cool. I'm gay. So no boyfriends. I was with a guy last year, but it didn't take.”
I thought about Sandy. The shit. A stockbroker of all things. I had high hopes, but even though the sex was amazing (and his cock was huge), he obviously wasn't into anything longer term. I had been pissed and hurt and depressed by it all.
Zalan nodded and sipped his drink. “I understand. It's hard to find the right person.” He looked thoughtful and stared into his glass. “Anna and I have been together since we were teenagers. She is the best. I can't imagine being with anyone else.”
I looked at him. The tone in his voice was complicated, as if him saying that he couldn't imagine being with anyone else was not just because it was a perfect match. I said, “Have you? Been with anyone else?”
He laughed and said, “I had a girlfriend when I was fifteen for a few months. Then I met Anna the next year.”
Straight people always do that, don't they? Or at least some of them. They meet someone when they're really young and never look back. My brother did it. He's been with the same woman for fifteen years. Impressive, really. My brother pities me, I think, for being single. That hurts and fucking annoys me. I finally said to Zalan, “I'm happy you found someone. I guess this makes these six months really hard.”
There was a pained look on his face. He raised his head and gave me a look. I couldn't make any sense of it. He sipped more whiskey. “I don't know yet. I miss her...but at the same time, we've never been apart since we were sixteen.” He looked up at me again. “Is that strange?”
I wasn't sure what he was asking me. I shifted on the sofa a little uncomfortably. The question was so vulnerable in that way that straight guys can be with a gay guy, as if they can share secrets with us knowing we won't judge their masculinity or something stupid like that. He was wearing a white t-shirt that set off his deep brown eyes, his dark wavy hair. He had a scruff on his face that was equally dark. I hadn't really looked at him until that moment. Gorgeous I already knew, but now I really could see why. His nose was perfect. I wanted to kiss it. His lips were...kissable. Thick and...stop it. Just stop, I said to myself.
“It's not strange...it's romantic. It's very sweet. You must be made for each other...” The platitudes fell from my mouth and I felt stupid. I cleared my throat and tried again. “That's the point of relationships, isn't it? That you're with someone and you don't want to be with anyone else? It just works.” I couldn't help but think of Ilya and Stephen. It had just worked.
Zalan looked at me a moment, his hand fiddling with his glass. There was dark hair on the backs of his fingers. I wanted to touch them. He finally said, “Yes. It works. And now I'm going to go to bed.”
He stood up and stretched. His t-shirt pulled up and I could see his flat belly with more dark hair peeking up from his trousers. I couldn't help but imagine the thicket of hair further down...and what it might smell like...I winced internally and said, “Good night, Zalan.”
Without a word, he turned and went into the little bathroom. I heard the sound of him pissing and again I tried not to visualize his cock. Then he quietly went to his bedroom, closing the door with a little click.
I stared into the room, not really focusing on anything. All I could see in my head was his vulnerable, questioning face that I so wanted to kiss. Fuck. I squirmed on the sofa and could feel my cock growing. The bloody thing had a mind of its own. I unzipped my trousers and began to stroke, thinking about being fucked by Zalan, him on top of me, driving whatever Hungarian instrument he had – hopefully long and thick - into me hard, stretching my hole, filling me, all the while kissing me, his tongue entwined with mine...
“We have to start the second set of tests in the morning, yes?”
I froze. My back was to him but I wasn't sure if he could see that I had my cock in my fist in the half-light of the room. I managed to say through gritted teeth, cum pouring all over my fingers, “Yeah. We'll set them up right after breakfast.”
“All right. Good night, Nathan.”
I heard the door click again. Damn it all to hell, I thought. I looked down at the cum all over my hand that was oozing onto my balls. Had he seen me? I wasn't sure. My cock was still half-hard, cum still slowly running from the head onto my fingers. I sighed and brought my fist to my mouth and licked it clean. The intense flavour cleared my head. I felt stupid and adolescent, as if I had been caught by my parents stroking myself off in the living room which was more or less just what had just happened. Except it wasn't my parents. It was a gorgeous, brilliant straight man. I vowed to never do it again in the common space. It was stupid and inconsiderate.
I wiped myself off in the bathroom and peed, trying not to imagine Zalan doing the same thing. I very quietly went into my little room and crawled into bed, feeling slightly sick, and not just because of the whiskey.
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