ROUGHNECK POETRY
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
Nobody gets a job as a roughneck on an oil rig unless they like to work hard. When you first set up the derrick on a drilling site and then drill down the first few hundred yards, you are working non-stop from the moment you arrive on the site to the time you leave, and there's overtime for anyone who wants it at any hour of the day or night.
But later, when the drill is reaching the one-mile mark and the drill bit has to bite through solid rock, the going is slower and so is the need for changing over the drill bit for a new one. What that means for a deckhand like me on the night shift is plenty of time to sit around, play cards and in my own case right then, work on my poetry for the English class I take during the day. Oh, I like being a roughneck, it's good pay and good work, but you can't do it for the rest of your life, and I intended to have choices when my body couldn't take it anymore.
So I was sitting on the deck, avoiding the water where we had sluiced off the "mud" after changing the last drill bit, and busy scribbling away with paper and pen.
"Hey, Dwayne!" Erik called to me. "What the hell are you up to? Writing a letter to your mother?" Erik is a big, blond stud with classic good looks, long square jaws, well-formed nose, eyes of a transparent gray that can bore right into your soul. His skin was fair, he was alternately pale-skinned where his shirt covered and hat shaded, and burnt red the rest of him.
"Just have to write a poem for my class." I explained.
"So how's it going?" he asked me. He was bored, nothing to do for the rest of the shift and it was only 2:00 a.m.
"About done."
"Well, let's hear it." he said heartily.
"Sure, let's hear it!" Ivan chipped in. "We've hit a layer of nickel; we won't be adding any more drill-pipe for another two hours." Ivan was older than Erik and me by a handful of years, black-haired, solid, and dependable as the day is long. He was something of the quiet type, but when he did speak up, you could tell his mind was as rough and rugged as Erik's. Women, booze, money and sports, those were the only subjects I ever heard him discuss outside of work details. He was also the driller on the crew and our boss; he ran the drill while Erik and I put on the clamps and did all the dirty work of adding lengths of drill-pipe to the drill. There was one other guy who filled out our crew, our derrick hand, who went up into the top of the derrick when we added pipe, but he was off in the spillhouse, pretending to check the tailings but in fact taking a nap.
Understand that when you drill as deeply as you have to for oil, you have to somehow get your drilling power all the way down that hole to where the drill is. The best way to do that with enough strength to take the rock pressing in all around it is a large, thick-walled, steel pipe, which is about fifty feet in length and heavier than hell; it can kill you if it drops on you. There's a screw-thread around at the end of each length of pipe inside on the bottom part and outside on the top part. When the drill gets deep enough, you have to add another length of drill-pipe to it from the top without pulling out that long length of pipe every time. So you clamp the pipe into the hole in the floor where we were, unscrew it with the motor, add another section of pipe and reattach the motor and unclamp it. Sounds easy, and it pretty much is, except it's also hard work. Most of the height of the derrick is for handling that long length of pipe; the rest of it, the floor where we were some thirty feet or so up in the air (I've never measured it) is to support that huge weight of pipe. Hard, dirty, dangerous work...and I loved it.
I shrugged. "Well, if you just want to hear it."
"Sure, go on!"
So I "harumphed" my throat clear and read aloud:
"Thunder lurks behind the stars,
Silent as the black between,
Like tea in the cup of an old maid.
She stirs the brew with palsied hand,
And the wolf howls out a warning
To the remnants of the melting moon.
I stroke your cheek with sadness,
Not wanting to ever part, but still,
Knowing, oh knowing, we always will."
I finished, looked up at them. They looked stunned. "Well?" I said, unable to bear it. "What did you think?"
"What the hell was that shit?" Erik demanded.
"I don't think you're done yet." Ivan agreed.
Well, nobody ever accused roughnecks of being subtle. Or tactful.
"It poetry." I defended myself. "It's supposed to be artistic. Metaphors. You know."
"Shit, I could do better than that!" Erik declared.
"Oh, yeah?" I knew the response to that. "Okay, let's hear you."
"Yeah, Erik, let's hear you." Ivan agreed.
"Something you made up yourself." I clarified.
"Sure." Erik struck a histrionic pose, thrust up a dramatic hand, and declaimed,
"There was an old whore from Toronto.
Who spoke nothing but Esperanto.
But when she was fucking,
Or blowing or sucking,
Her johns still got off quite pronto."
He lowered his hand and grinned. "Now that's poetry."
Now I was the one who was stunned. I looked at him, and then burst out laughing. We all laughed a while and I agreed, "Okay, Erik, your stuff is better than mine, but I still got to pass her class, and she likes this sort of metaphysical stuff."
"What kind of looker is your teacher?" Erik demanded.
"Pretty nice." I admitted.
"Tell her I got a metaphor for her right here!" He said as he grabbed his crotch and waggled it.
I decided to tease Erik right then. "I said nice, not gorgeous."
"I don't care." he declared.
"She's got a big nose."
"It ain't her nose that she fucks with."
"And these tiny little tits, she's practically flat-chested."
"Flat-chested babes bang better." Erik was still unfazed.
"And she's like fifty-two years old." I concluded.
"Older women been around, they can latch onto your cock and ride it all night." Erik said.
"Shit, Erik." I gave up. "You'd fuck my grandmother if she was to come by when you were here."
"Damn right I would." Erik bragged. "If it's walking, crawling or hasn't been dead too long, I'll fuck it."
This was intriguing, in a mindless sort of way. "Would you fuck an ostrich?"
"Just wrap those big long legs around me." Erik said, laughing. Hell, we all were, there wasn't anything like reality being talked here.
What about an elephant?" Ivan chipped in.
"I'd need a stepladder."
"How about an anteater?" I said.
"Now that's the kind that would give head better than hole." Erik said. "Bring it all on, I'd take it. I'm hornier than a double-balled tomcat."
"Would you fuck Dwayne?" Ivan asked.
I was startled, then decided to go along with it. "Yeah, Erik, you're so damned horny, would you fuck me?" I turned around and bent over, holding my asscheeks apart with my hands. "Come on, let's see you shove it in this hole!"
"Nah!" Erik said.
Triumphant, I turned around. "Guess you're not as horny as you claim you are, huh?" I demanded.
"Naw, it's not that." Erik said. "Just that you're like that anteater. Those lips of yours beg for the chance to wrap around my dong."
There was an awkward silence, and I couldn't help but look down. Damn, Erik did have a boner! "Damn, man, you do have a boner!" I said.
He was fondling it. "Yeah, thinking about them rosy pink lips of yours around my ten-incher is really turning me on."
"Ten inches!" I scoffed. "If you got ten inches, I'll suck it!"
I was throwing a boner, too, right then. I was half-joking, half trying to get out of this without making a complete retreat. Believe me, the best way to handle a situation like this is to not back down. You do, and they have a handle, they'll start riding you, best to bluff it out and make the guy who started it back down.
"Kid, you got yourself a fucking deal." Erik said smugly.
"Got to measure it from the top, mind you." I said.
"That's from the top." Erik said.
My voice kind of lost force, and I said into the quiet velvet night, "Okay, you whip that out while Ivan gets the yardstick out from the doghouse. We'll just see what he's got."
"Bring it on." Erik said. "Kid, you're going to be chowing down here."
"And if you lose?" I asked.
"Then I'll chow down on you." Erik's voice went kind of soft, too, right then.
Ivan had ducked into the "doghouse" a small trailer-house-looking thing attached to the side of the derrick, he hadn't left us.
He came back out, with a rather wild expression on his face. He was getting kind of excited, kind of "oh, gosh, what's going on here!" and kind of "This is fun!" all at once, if you know what I mean, his eyes were wide and glistening, his face was softened from his mouth being open, he was breathing a little heavy. "Okay." he panted. "I got the stick. Erik, you pull it on out and I'll do the measuring."
I still sort of expected Erik to back down. Or maybe he was waiting for me to freak out at the thought of sucking his cock. Or maybe he was that confident of winning.
I know that when he reached into his pants, he reached way down, I mean, into one of his pants legs, and grabbed hold and I realized that what I'd though was his cock was just a part of the shaft. He was wearing loose cloth boxers under his blue jeans, which did nothing to hoist that big hose he was pulling out of there.
"Holy Jesus Christ!" I breathed as Erik pulled that long prick of his out into the floodlights. "Man, that is a monster."
"Yep." Erik bragged as he worked his hand on the length, getting it to rise up from semi-flaccid to enraged, turgid pud. It was as pale as the rest of Erik, a light, nearly yellowish shade of flesh, the head was a delicate shell-pink. "Come on, Ivan, slap that ruler on top of it."
Ivan had brought out the yardstick, the measuring rod kept to lay against the huge large-scale maps of the area and not used for much else, it was always lying on the drafting table, for use at that one moment when needed.
He placed that yardstick on top of Erik's pud and Erik gripped it to his shaft. No reason to doubt he'd hold it tight against him, he needed all the length he could get on this.
Not that he needed it. Ivan looked at the cockhead and said, "Ten and a quarter inches."
"Let me see that." I demanded.
"It's honest." Ivan said as I stepped up.
I knelt down and peered at the marks above the engorged head. "Jesus, it is."
"Long as you're down there, kid, you might as well get to work." Erik lifted the yardstick away.
"Hey, guys, this is going a little too far." Ivan chastised us.
"Hell, he was the one offered the bet." Erik said. "And you encouraged him."
"Dwayne, if you say the word, I'll back you up on it." Ivan said, worried now.
I grabbed Erik's cock with my hand. "Hell, think I'm going to welsh on a bet?" I said. And I swung that massive schlong around, the turgid head slapped my cheek and then I had it in my mouth. It was heavy, meaty, slightly salty from the heavy sweat of honest labor, richly redolent with concentrated human musk from the heat of his crotch, and the foreskin was as sleekly soft as old leather as it roiled across my tongue and slipped into my throat.
"Criminy." Ivan said soulfully as I scarfed down that thick prick, and there was nothing stupid about his use of the word at that moment. It was too deep a moment for profanity, he was reduced to fishing for adequate ways to express himself.
"Yeah, man, yeah." Erik breathed. "God, yeah, suck that prick, suck it hard! God, I've been so damned horny lately. Whacking off doesn't cut it, you got to stick it in something. Come on, you little bastard, suck it good!"
I buried that luscious prong in my throat, ignoring his entreaties, I held it there deep within me, feeling full of his manhood, as if I had somehow gotten the most important part of Erik, of his loud, arrogant maleness, his brash behavior, as if all of that was somehow now within me with these few silken inches of his prick.
Erik snarled his frustration and grabbed my head, pulled his cock back out and then shoved it in again, he humped my face like this, rough, brazenly presumptuous, he was fucking my face and if I liked it, fine, if I didn't that was also fine as long as I kept his cock in my mouth and my lips tight around it, he didn't give a fuck how I felt about it.
Erik groaned as his fucking of my face began to turn him on, he grabbed the back of my head and he humped at me harder, slapping his abdomen against my nose hard, bruising it, threatening to bust my nose. I could see the doctor now, "How'd you break your nose, kid? You get into a fight?"
So I grunted and struggled, got free from his rough calloused paws that were clutching my neck, roughly to him, and I began to work his pud now of my own free will, loving that long meat, feeling how it stretched my jaws to the point where they threatened to pop apart, the only way to get this massive prong into my throat all the way, and still it bulged alarmingly at the side when I shoved it down my throat, threatening to buckle under the pressure, I could feel the bloated heat of his dong, it seethed within my lips and boiled my saliva, and sweat that dripped from his work-stained body fell onto my head and face in great steaming plops.
"Oh, man!" Ivan groaned. "God, man, you're sucking his cock!"
"Yeah!" Erik panted out. "I knew this kid was hot for dick when I saw him writing poetry. They all like to suck cock."
Now that wasn't fair, in his limited world, Erik had brought forth an unkind generalization, that escaped bigotry from the sheer lack of intention to offend. He wasn't condemning poets, just making what he thought was an observation.
I was in no position to argue it. Hell, I wanted this stud's prick, even before I knew how big it was. Those glimpses I had gotten at the lockers when we changed at the end of shift just hadn't done him justice, flaccid, it hadn't been anything like the ten-plus inches it had turned out to have.
I put my hands on Erik's buttocks, and he didn't protest, I used this purchase to thrust my head more directly onto his groin, drive that wonderful prick deeply into my body, and he groaned in tempo to my motions, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh!
I worked him like this, and then he gave an extra hard groan, his knees buckled, and he caught himself, actually stopped us and pulled away. "Shit, Dwayne, let me sit down before I fall flat on my ass." he groaned. He took only a few steps back and rested his buttocks against a large metal pipe that extruded from below at this point to enter a huge machine on one side, this machine pumped in water to the pipe to cool the drill bit and to flush the tailings up and out of the way. The pipe was large and cold and dappled with condensed moisture on its outside, for the water we used was pumped from a water well nearby that ran deep and cold, and I crawled on my knees after him and when he was steady against the pipe, he leaned back and I ran my head down and I possessed his strength and his manhood once more.
I wanted to suck his dong all night, drink that heavy straw of jism dry of its final drop, and I blissfully settled in.
To my surprise, I felt hands at my pants. Ivan, of course. I didn't protest as my pants were dropped to my ankles, but I was as surprised as hell at what happened next, for instead of fucking my ass or such, Ivan dropped down and grabbed my cock in his hand still covered in a cloth glove! I felt that soiled glove envelope my manhood, I looked down onto a silver hardhat, and then I felt a huge warmth engulf my cockhead, it was like I was plunging it into warm bathwater, only this was better, this was a soft wet washcloth that covered me, gripped me and pulled my pleasure out of me as it brought my foreskin forward with those twin lips, a wave of joy followed in the wake of that mouth, and then he moved down and swallowed me up again, and again I was surrounded by warm, wet pleasure.
I struggled upwards at the gentle urgings of Ivan's hands as they moved over my legs, until I was standing up, bent over to continue to suck Erik's succulent pud, while Ivan played his wonderful magical lips over my cock, bringing ecstasy out of nothingness, just the simple motions of his mouth that swallowed me up and wrung me out again and again.
The night was dark, the land was quiet, the stars were visible despite the heavy floodlights used to light our work. Alone in this place, this place barren of most familiar things and none of what we could see living save ourselves, in this desolation and barrenness, we were alive and luxuriating in existence, we were rejoicing in our humanness, sharing our pleasure of our bodies, with none around to speak ill of it, to interfere or impede in any way. It was like the three of us were the sum total of mankind, all that had lived, all that would live, and this moment, this night, was forever.
I felt a joy rising in me, that was more than the regular rising tide of human climax, this was more, this was like a sharing and joining of our bodies, of our maleness, as if we had become one person in this moment of combining, and our hands, our mouths, our lips moved in one accord and conforming to the same tempo, the beating of our hearts and the roaring thunder of the driving blood in our veins.
The joy rose within me, and it was like it was unconnected to my prick, as if the sharper pleasure it bore was somehow distinct and different from it, I felt my entire body forming this pleasure that increased and rose and filled me full.
I was the first of us to reach my climax, I groaned my ecstasy into Erik's crotch and expected Ivan to pull away, but this rugged drillman only clutched me tighter, he rammed my cock into his mouth more rapidly, squeezing every ounce of my pleasure out of me, so that I groaned in more urgent and rapid scale and at last brought to the very brink, I gave one last desperate cry and released the flood, my orgasm assailed my brain while, again as if something disconnected to me, my cock squirted a lavish load of slimy jism into Ivan's warm mouth.
I was groaning of course, and groaning around Erik's prick, he seemed to take inspiration from this, for he was groaning louder as I groaned, though not as rapidly, and when I finally fell into a staccato of grunts around his hot dick, he groaned, once more his hands gripped my head and forced me into rapid service of him, and as he moaned his triumph to the skies, his cock gave a spasmotic jerk and then I felt the rapid-fire pelting of his jizz that slapped itself against the roof of my mouth, hitting with all the force of a water hose with a narrow nozzle, a nearly painful slicing feel to the landing clumps of jism that splattered into my mouth and then crept down my throat at their own laconic pace.
Ivan was whomping his prick as I finished drinking that sweet load from Erik's pud, and he was grunting urgently when I sagged in my relief and in my lassitude, I took mercy upon him. I quickly lowered myself on down (as if I had any choice about ending up on the floor! But at least I chose how I landed) and resting on my elbows I regarded his hand flailing upon his prick, and then gently took it away from him and felt that hot cock sizzle in my hand as I lifted it up to my lips and pulled it into me.
Ivan was uncut, I had a heavy fold of foreskin that clung to his cockhead and would not release it no matter how I pulled upon it and pressed it back down to his body. But Ivan groaned appreciatively to my ministrations, and he was too turned on now to be very discriminating, a few moments of my working his pud and he was moaning out his crescendo, staggering to its peak and then falling in a scream of glory as his cock squirted its load into my mouth, and I drank him down with a relaxed feeling of completeness.
Finished, Ivan sagged back to sit on the floor, his back against a girder, and I looked over at Erik, who was tucking that long dong back into his pants, me marveling now at how it could possibly fit into those tight jeans, and then he gave his pants a hitch and was buttoning them up again with one hand, his legs bowed out like an imitation cowboy while he yanked the buttons back into their proper holes.
"Damn, that was good." Erik said. "I ain't had a blowjob like that in a dog's year."
"What was that you were saying about poets?" I asked him, not angry still, but wanting to set the record straight.
"I said that they make damned good cocksuckers." he said, totally unabashed at his position. "I think it's because they get so busy trying to put their emotions down on paper, all those fancy words of theirs. When you get fancy, you start sucking cocks. I don't explain it, I just know that's how it works."
I shook my head, I wasn't going to make any headway on that very soon. "Well, I'm just a guy trying to pass an English class." I said.
"You don't fool me none." Erik grinned. "I heard what you wrote."
"You did one yourself." I pointed out. "Remember the old whore from Toronto?"
"Hell, anyone can do that." Erik said. "Why don't you do one. Better than that crap about stars and teacups you got."
"What should I do?" I asked. "There once was a roughneck named Erik?"
Erik nodded. "That's a start."
I thought of the next line. "Who had a most humongous pr-ick." making that last word two syllables.
Erik laughed. "Now you're getting there. Finish it off. Then a young man named Dwayne." he supplied.
"Then a young man named Dwayne." I said. "Uh... Sucked it right down his drain. And left it hanging limp and quite sla-ick."
Erik laughed heartily. Ivan was less impressed. "Mph. I've heard better limericks." he observed.
"Yeah." Erik said. "But at least now, he's doing my kind of poetry!"
Roughneck poetry, I mused. I wonder if there might be a market for that somewhere!
THE END
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WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM