Date: Wed, 1 May 2002 23:52:40 EDT
From: Tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: Roughneck Poetry

			     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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		      E-mail me at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM