F/V Lost Agnes

A few minutes later, Carson came back with the waitress and her tray of Everclear shots. I smiled when I saw that he got each of us a coupla beers and two shots each for the other guys. That'd buy us some time to keep talkin'. I lit cigarette and took a long drag.

I was startin' to like the kid. He had got through the first two weeks without dyin', which surprised us all, and he'd kept his cool with all the fag jokes. I thought he was gonna quit as soon as we got back to the harbor after that first run, but he surprised me again. He decided to stay. I was impressed; he had more balls than I thought.

He got back to his seat and took another drink.

"So anyways...You were tellin' me how you got this job in the first place," I reminded him.

"Oh. Yeah. My father thought he would light a fire under my ass by kicking me out of the house."

He lowered his voice and said, "He didn't want me at home anyway, you know?" He gave me a tight-lipped smile and raised his eyebrows. I knew what he meant. My old man woulda thought the same thing if he was alive and found out about me.

"He gave me one month to get a job and start paying rent. If I didn't, he'd buy me a one-way ticket to Alaska and make me move out. That was his deal."

"Your old man actually kicked you out? That's rough." I took a gulp of my beer, waitin' to see where this was goin'.

"I didn't wait that long. I figured I'd just go. Screw him, you know?"

"I guess you're showin' him," I said with a chuckle. "But how'd you even get on the boat? I mean, I know we lost our greenhorn after King Crab, but how the fuck did you even get to meet the captain?"

"I flew up here in the middle of June and got a job at the cannery. I worked there during the day, and hung out here at the tavern at night. I found out later that the cannery would have paid for my ticket too if I got the job before I traveled."

"Yeah. I've heard of guys getting' jobs on boats by workin' at the cannery first," I said.

I heard a ruckus over by the bar. A couple of guys from another boat were starting to argue with Chip from our boat. He was a nasty fucker, a real mean drunk, and he loved to fight.

I leaned a little closer to Carson so I could hear over the shoutin'. This was the most I ever heard him talk. He talked like a college boy, all proper and shit. And that southern drawl of his... Yeah. The more he talked, the more I liked him.

"Well," he went on, "I was here one night in November, and Captain Rich came in. I had seen him at the cannery a couple of times when he picked up the check for the crab he delivered. I was sitting with a bunch of guys from work, and I was talking about my job chopping wood. I did that for, like, five summers on my uncle's farm near Macon."

I smiled. I couldn't help it. "So, you're a lumberjack, huh?"

And then everything changed.

The kid blushed like crazy. Then he slugged down half his beer. And then he grinned.

"Yeah." He chuckled. "I guess I am. Or I was anyway." He shook his head, still grinning, and then he looked at me with those blue eyes.

My breath caught in my throat. He was fuckin' adorable.

I grabbed my glass and took a long drink while I willed my dick not to get hard.

I hoped nobody saw the stupid look on my face when I imagined him stripped to the waist, chopping wood. A bead of sweat just starting to trickle down the muscles in his chest, and—

"Artie?" Carson said.

Shit. I was busted. At least the table hid my crotch. I looked around, hopin' the kid was the only one that saw me out-to-lunch like that.

No such luck. Ed was lookin' at me with an odd look on his face. Shit.

I flagged down the waitress and ordered another round of shots for the crew, hopin' that would get Ed off my case. Alls I needed was to have him watching me talk to the kid. I knew I needed to be more careful.

I fiddled with my napkin while we waited for the drinks. I turned back to Carson after Ed downed his shot and started talkin' to Larry.

"So what were you sayin'?"

"Oh, yeah. I was over at the bar, explaining my wood-chopping technique—"

"You weren't choppin' up the furniture, were you? A guy did that one night in another bar. It was fuckin' nuts," I said.

"No. Nothing like that," he said, smilin'. "I was just pantomiming."

"Pantomimin', huh?" I lowered my voice to a whisper. "Even I have to say that sounds a little gay."

He kept grinnin'. "I guess Captain Rich thought I was talking about chopping ice off a boat, and he offered me the job for Opie season." He shrugged and finished his beer. "I guess he had the wrong idea."

"Yeah," I said. "He wouldn't have hired a lumberjack to go crab fishin'. That's probably why he treats you so bad. He thinks you lied to him."

I pushed the other glass toward him.

The rest of the crew was plastered by then. Chip was pickin' another fight, and I knew we were gonna get tossed soon.

"C'mon, kid. Drink up. We gotta get outta here," I said. "It's about to get ugly in here."

"Where you guys goin', Artie?" Larry, asked. "You guys got a date or somethin'?"

"Yeah," said Ed. "Make sure he buys ya flowers before he has his way with ya, Artie."

Shit. Not again. I knew that they were just tryin' to piss the kid off, but I couldn't help but take it personal.

I fought the panic that jumped up inside me, but Carson couldn't hide that damn look on his face. It was a little different this time though. Before the fear, there was something on his face that looked like...like hope. That's when I realized that he might be feelin' somethin' for me too.

Fuck. This was gettin' complicated.

"C'mon, guys," I said. "Leave the kid alone. He just doesn't wanna drink till he pukes, so we're gonna get goin'. What difference does it make to you?"

Larry laughed real loud. "You better not turn your back on him, Artie. Captain and I were discussing our greenhorn yesterday. We think he's a little light in the loafers. Right, guys?"

Chip was still messin' around with the guy at the other table, but Ed nodded. Ed was a hell of a mechanic, but a total douchebag.

Ed called to Chip, "Whaddaya think, Chip? Is our college-kid greenhorn a fag?"

That got Chip's attention. He pushed the guy from the other boat into a chair and turned his attention to Carson.

Carson jumped up, bumping the table, and spilling their drinks all over the place.

"I'm not a homosexual, if that's what you're insinuating," he yelled loud enough to get everybody in the bar's attention. "I'm not gay."

I couldn't tell if the guys really thought he was or if they were just tryin' to get a rise outta him, but this was about to get ugly. Carson's blue eyes were wild, and I was afraid he was gonna charge at Chip and kick the shit outta him.

I put my hand on his shoulder to steady him, and I said, "OK. Let's settle down before we're fightin' each other too.

"C'mon, Higgins. Let's go back to the boat. Next round's on me, guys." I threw some twenties on the table. "Don't get your panties in a bunch. Nobody's gay."

On my way out, I heard Chip say, "I think Artie's got a thing for our greenhorn."

Fuck.

* * * *

Back on the boat, we got ready to hit the rack since we'd be back to fishin' tomorrow. The Agnes had two crew rooms, each with two sets of bunks, so we could sleep eight all at the same time. We still had the room to ourselves for the time bein'. I guess Larry was afraid that Carson's sea legs might disappear again, and he didn't want to be on the bottom bunk when they did.

I knew that the other guys wouldn't be too far behind us 'cause they were gonna end up gettin' tossed outta the bar, so I said what I had to say in a hurry, as soon as we sat on our bunks.

"Carson, we both gotta be more careful. These guys bust on all the greenhorns, but they have never said anything to me about being gay the whole eleven years I been fishin'. They musta noticed your reaction that first day when Chip called you a faggot or somethin'. They might suspect that you're gay, but they can't know about me. It would ruin my life. Alls I got is fishin'."

"I know. I'm trying not to even look at you when they're around," he said. He lowered his voice and looked at the floor. "It's hard not to though. You are so..."

My cock got so hard fast, startlin' me.

God. When was the last fuckin' time I had sex? Over a year ago. Christ. It was right before I left Seattle for Opies last year. It was that guy I met at my sister's thirtieth birthday party. We had went up to her room after she cut the cake, and...

I looked into Carson's blue eyes, but my eyes dropped right to his lap.

He was hard too, and he was huge.

The urge to kneel between his legs and suck him off was powerful. I reached to adjust my own hard-on, and I wondered if the other guys had even left the bar yet.

"Oh, man. We can't do this," I said. I leaned my head into my hands. "Eleven years of crab fishin' with nobody knowin'. I can't."

Greenhorn made the first move. He sat next to me on my bunk and put his hands in my hair. He slid them into my beard and pulled me toward him.

I opened my mouth before his lips touched mine, and I slipped my arm around his shoulders. I ran my other palm along his stubble like I had wanted to that first time we sat in this room talkin'. I smiled because it tickled, but kept kissin' him anyway.

"OK," I whispered between kisses. "Maybe just a little kissin'."

He moaned into my mouth and dropped one hand into my lap. I gasped when I felt his hand wrap around my cock. I was wearing loose sweats to sleep in, and he got a good grip right from the start. After three or four pumps of his fist, I could feel the wet spot on my pants from the pre-cum.

He slipped his hand into my pants, and I swore that I was gonna shoot right there when his smooth palm slid down the length of me. I moaned and adjusted my hips so that I could pull my sweats down around my ankles. His hand was as soft as it looked. Not calloused, like mine.

Carson got to his knees in front of me. I wanted to stop him. I had to tell him it was a bad idea. That we'd both get thrown off the boat if anybody walked in and saw us.

I couldn't make my mouth form the words in time though. His blue eyes looked up at me, and alls I could do was put my hands in his hair and hope the guys were still sittin' at the table in the bar, gettin' plastered and startin' a fight. He smiled around my cock and started to blow me.

At first, he just sucked, letting his head bob into my lap a bit. I forgot how warm and wet a mouth felt on my cock. Then he started lickin' up and down my shaft, over and over while he sucked me. I shuddered. I knew I wouldn't be able to hold out long.

Over a fuckin' year. It'd just been too long since the last time my dick was in somebody's mouth.

He was a good cocksucker. Very skilled for a young guy. He could take me all the way to the back of his mouth, and still stick out his tongue to lick my balls. His hands caressed my thighs and my ass cheeks while his tongue traced circles around the mushroom at the top.

My hips were starting to buck already, and I mussed his hair up while I held onto his head. I pumped in time with his suction, and I felt my balls starting to tighten up.

"Oh my god, kid," I said, trying to be quiet. "I ain't gonna last much longer."

I was groanin' while I was talkin', and at that moment, I didn't give a fuck who knew. I needed to blow, and I was gonna do it right in the greenhorn's mouth.

"Oh, man. Here it comes. I'm gonna come!" I said that way too loud, but I couldn't help it. His mouth was so warm, and his tongue knew just how to pull the cum out of my dick. "Ung. Fuck. Ohmygod. Don't stop. Ohmygod."

I held onto his head until my dick stopped twitchin', and he had sucked the last drop outta my nuts. I ruffled his hair again, and finally started to relax. I watched my cock slide out from between his lips.

"Oh, man. You are good at that," I said as I tried to get up to fix myself. "C'mon. Hurry. It's your turn. Get those pants down before they get back," I said, pullin' myself off the bunk. He was grinnin' like a fool as he got to his feet.

He slipped his pants down to his knees, and I smiled when I saw that he was uncut. I'd had a coupla guys before who were uncircumcised, and they were a treat. I loved to play with the foreskin, pullin' it with my lips and tickling the super-sensitive head underneath all that skin with my tongue.

I knelt in front of him and took his cock in my hand. Like the rest of him, it was big. I took a second to look at his equipment. He was long enough to have a couple inches stickin' out from my fist and thick enough that my fingers just barely met around him. Veins lined his shaft, and the dark-red helmet that poked out from his foreskin made my mouth water. His pubes were a tangled mess all around his cock and coverin' his balls and thighs. He was every bit the lumberjack I was hopin' for.

I stuck out my tongue and dipped into his piss-slit to take a taste of his pre-cum. That's my favorite part of givin' head—the salty taste of the pre-cum. I let it coat my tongue before I slid his cock into my mouth and closed my lips around him. As I pulled back, I felt his veins against my lips and tongue, and I felt my cock starting to harden again.

"Holy shit, kid," I mumbled with my mouth full of his rigid organ. "You're so fuckin' hot."

I cupped his balls with my hand. They were large and hung low from his body, like an animal. I imagined how it would feel to have them slapping against me as he fucked me from the back, and I shuddered.

"Suck me, man. Stop talking and suck my cock," he moaned. He stuck his fingers in my beard and pulled my hair. That drove me crazy.

I remembered that we were in a hurry, so I started suckin' and lashin' the head of his cock with my tongue. I dug under the foreskin with my tongue, and licked him all the way around, swallowing pre-cum as fast as he dribbled it into my mouth.

I tried to take in his whole length, but he was too big. I gagged when he hit the back of my throat, but I didn't back off. I sucked the head before moving my lips about an inch down his cock. I gave it a good, hard suck and then moved down another inch. Then another and another until it filled my whole mouth.

My hand left his balls, and I slid both palms up the backs of his legs. I fondled the hard muscles in his legs and wondered if he got those from a workout routine or from plain, old hard work cuttin' wood. When my hands reached his buns, he shivered. I let my fingers trail between his cheeks, and I licked the head of his cock again.

"Oh my god," he moaned as I sucked harder and rubbed my fingertip against his asshole. I traced lines on his balls and thighs with my other hand. He grabbed my head and started to fuck my face.

"I'm gonna come. I'm so close," he moaned, almost incoherently.

All of a sudden, we heard the bang of a passageway door being thrown open. I froze, but he held my head right against his groin. He pumped his hips into my face, not lettin' go until he'd dumped his load in my mouth.

Three more thrusts was all it took. He threw his head back as his balls contracted, and I felt his cock pulsating against my tongue—spurt, spurt, spurt—while the guys thumped around upstairs. When I heard their boots on the metal stairs, I knew it was all over. They were gonna catch me with a dick in my mouth and make my life hell.

Just when I thought they was gonna bust through the door, Carson pulled his cock out of my mouth and pulled his pants up. He climbed, up onto his bunk, trying to keep his secret too. I scrambled to get my pants up, turn off the light, get in bed, and close my eyes.

"Holy shit," he whispered with awe in his voice. "That was amazing."

"Yeah," I whispered back.

And nobody even opened the cabin door.

* * * *

It got harder to work together after the blowjobs. We were afraid to look at each other, and we didn't talk much unless it was work related. Even when we were alone in our bunk room, we were afraid to whisper.

I was afraid to anyway. Carson was a little bit more forceful. The first time we closed the bunk room door, and he pushed me up against it to kiss me, I thought I was gonna have heart failure it pounded so hard in my chest.

It was gettin' tougher to hide my feelin's for the kid.

I just hoped he could hide his feelin's for me. Assumin' he had any.

Except for more seasickness when the weather got bad, and the fact that he really couldn't stand the cold, Carson was gettin' his shit together. The other guys were finally startin' to notice that he was doin' a good job, especially at choppin' the ice off the boat.

The Bering Sea is a cold, cold place in January, but that's when we catch the Opies. The ice can build up on the boat real fast when it's that cold, and all that ice adds to the weight of the boat. Part of the job on deck is to chop it with a sledgehammer. Carson was better at that than all of us, just like the Captain thought he would be when he hired him.

That kid could chop ice for hours, and the rest of us just let him go at it. I had to be real careful though. I kept catchin' myself watchin' him. He was all covered up in his raingear, but I didn't have to think too hard to imagine what it would look like if he was choppin' wood in Georgia in the summer instead of choppin' ice in Alaska in the winter. That raingear was coverin' some real defined muscles, and I could just—

"Yoo hoo! Artie! You gonna throw that hook or watch the greenhorn work?" Chip always seemed to catch me when I looked at Carson too long. I guess I shoulda been glad that I went all these years without tellin' nobody my secret, but I was afraid it wasn't gonna be a secret much longer if I kept this up.

About a week before our second off-load in the harbor, Carson had a little accident. I'm pretty sure that was when the rest of the crew really started to suspect that there was somethin' goin' on between us.

When the chunk of ice came loose from where the wheelhouse hangs over the deck, I saw the fuckin' thing fall like it was happenin' in slow motion. I saw Carson swing the sledgehammer, and I knew that he was gonna hit the overhang. When it struck the ice, I tried to yell, but it was like I was dreamin'. I couldn't yell. I couldn't scream. For fuck sake, I couldn't even grunt.

I watched as it hit him right above the eyebrow, splittin' his forehead open. I knew that heads bleed a lot, and that just because he was bleedin' like a stuck pig didn't mean that his brains was bashed in or nothin', but I was freakin' out.

He kissed the deck good and hard. I ran over as fast as I could with the boat rollin' and the deck bein' all slippery. I didn't even think about the other guys. I didn't know if they saw what happened or what until I heard Chip yellin' for the captain.

When I got to him, he was moanin', so at least I knew he wasn't dead. There was so much blood pooled around him on the deck, I admit. I was nervous.

"It's OK, buddy. I got ya," I said as I laid my hand on his back. "Can you hear me, Carson?"

He moaned again and tried to roll over.

I helped him to get onto his back, just as the captain got there with the first aid kit.

"You OK, kid?" he asked. A sound escaped Carson's mouth that could have been a yeah.

He mopped up some of the blood with gauze pads. As I sat on the deck next to him on, I felt really helpless. I reached for his hair and started strokin' his head like he was a puppy without realizin' what I was doin'.

Larry was behind us yellin', "Captain! Should I call for the Coast Guard?"

"Hey, Carson. You OK? Carson...Talk to me, buddy," I said. I was startin' to get really worried about him. I looked at Captain Rich. "Do you think he has a concussion or somethin'?"